


Kintsugi

by persephoneregina



Category: ATEEZ (Band), ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Begging, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Break Up Talk, Cock Worship, Come Swallowing, Dancer Choi San, Deepthroating, Edging, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Licking, Love, Love Bites, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Model Choi San, Modeling, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Overstimulation, Photographer Kim Geonhak, Post-Break Up, References to Depression, Rimming, Romance, Rough Sex, Side HwanGi, Side YoungJoong, Smut, Spit As Lube, Straddling, Strip Tease, Temporary Breakup, Yearning, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneregina/pseuds/persephoneregina
Summary: “Gorgeous,” Geonhak said, swiftly adjusting the lights after taking the first trial shot. “You look gorgeous.” He remarked, once more, with a glint of melancholy in his voice that made San frown and focus on him, forgetting about the whole entourage, about the coldness crippling along his limbs, about the blinding white lights surrounding him, about the painfully heavy earrings hanging on his lobes, even about holding his pose.He focused on Geonhak, on his gentle eyes staring back at him, intense, careful, yet ever so slightly veiled with a wistfulness he couldn’t get the grasp of.San had been called gorgeous many times- that was just a given, both as a dancer and, more recently, as a model, to the point that the word had almost become a meaningless series of familiar phonemes with no depth or feeling at all.Pose. “Gorgeous.”A routine.Pose. “Gorgeous.”A habit.Pose. “Gorgeous.”A cruel mockery, even.But Geonhak was different, and San saw him.Geonhak called him gorgeous like he meant it.Geonhak called him gorgeous like it hurt him.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Son Dongju | Xion, Choi San/Kim Geonhak | Leedo, Kim Hongjoong/Kim Youngjo | Ravn
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26
Collections: Stupid Cupid FicFest 2020





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello!  
> It is with incredible delay that I am hereby submitting my work for the stupid Cupid FicFest, which is a SanHak I had in mind for the longest time.  
> Unfortunately, while writing this AU, a lot of things happened IRL and it took me a very long time to finish it, but as per usual I tried to do my very best.  
> If you could spare this work some love I would be really grateful, so please leave kudos or a comment to let me know if you enjoyed it, it always means the world to me, especially in a trying time as the last months have been for me.
> 
> As always, you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/persefoneregina); if you'd like to follow me and be updated on my future works and projects!
> 
> Love you all!!!

# Kintsugi

  
  


Some people have it all.

At least, that is what most individuals say when they meet someone who, somehow, inexplicably seems to have his life perfectly together: a career on a roll, friends who love them, a nice and caring family, a beautiful house, even good looks.

Some people have it all.

And yet, more often than not, for reasons unknown even to them, those are the people who ache the most, for they bear the excruciatingly heavy weight of other people’s perceptions and expectations.

When people think you have it all, everything gets harder, for no one imagines you might be hurting: what kind of problems could you possibly have? 

Therefore, suddenly your friends don’t understand you like they did anymore.

You have it all, you shouldn’t be complaining.

Your family is not that comprehensive anymore, they don’t get why would you be sad, or exhausted, or need time for yourself, or not be capable to be there for them, since in their mind it is your duty, as someone who has it all, to be selfless, even when you don’t have energy to keep yourself together.

You have it all, you should be giving back what life gave you.

Except it wasn’t life to give you what you have.

It was you.

It has always been you.

But people who have it all cannot admit they’re struggling.

You can’t be struggling, in other people’s eyes, when everything about your life seems to be so perfect.

Some people have it all.

The success and the constant, crippling performance anxiety.

The looks and the insecurities.

The loving friends and the fear to lose them.

The family and the overwhelming list of duties.

A house and its unbearable emptiness at the end of the day.

Some people have it all. Until you know them.

But who really wants to take the time to get to their depths?

Who really cares enough to listen to a kind of suffering that is alien to them?

That had always been the case with Kim Geonhak, the prodigious photography director for Vogue Korea’s fashion editorials.

That had always been the case with Choi San, a former ballet dancer whose beauty had led to an explosive modeling career.

But, as it often happens when two soulmates meet, they didn’t recognise how perfectly they fit together at all.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It was approximately 11:00 P.M. when Geonhak was distracted from his work by the chiming of his email alert.

When he saw the sender’s address, he sighed and stretched his back to regain focus: it was his boss, informing him of a high-end jewelry shooting they needed to schedule for the upcoming July’s issue, and, as always, the theme was as vague as it could be.

Stargazing.

No moodboard, no concept art, no suggested models’ agency, no designated location, just the designer’s name and the word “stargazing”, thing which of course meant that he trusted Geonhak’s creative decisions, but at the same time put him in a position where he would have stressed himself to the brink of a nervous breakdown until he would have gotten the final approval for a concept he had to come up with on his own.

As always.

He huffed, rolling his eyes, before typing his answer: “Got you.”, which was just as dry as the email he received, meaning that yes, he had gotten the information, but also fuck you Youngjo, make a fucking effort next time. 

After that, Geonhak called right away the only person he was sure he wanted to hire, the only one he knew he could rely on, his glimmer of hope, his one certainty in life: Dongju, the best make up artist he had ever worked with, who was not only an absolute sensation when it came to his work and to conciliating concepts with his art.

Geonhak clearly remembered how his jaw dropped the first time Dongju showed him some of his face charts for their first project together. He had never met anyone capable of getting exactly what he had in mind, without needing to over explain himself or to send him references for the looks he wanted to be executed.

“Dongju-ya?” Geonhak said as soon as he heard him pick up, thanking the Heavens for the prompt response, even at that late hour.

“The fuck do you want, hyung?” Dongju didn’t seem to be just as thankful, though.

“First of all, some manners, if you please.” Geonhak playfully reprimanded him, expecting his words to have absolutely no effect whatsoever on the younger man.

“Yeah, sure, sorry. Let me rephrase this for you.” Dongju cleared his throat and then started to speak again with the fakest tone of kindness he could pull off “Good evening hyung, it’s so good to hear from you! What the fuck do you want from me at this time of the night?”

“Ah, much better. Why are you so upset, were you busy?” He asked, after suppressing his initial instinct to slap Dongju’s nape via ether, progressively feeling slightly guilty for calling that late. Dongju was an irredeemable brat, but Geonhak sometimes (well,  _ most of the time _ ) forgot that his friends, unlike him, had a way more interesting and varied personal life, that didn’t imply staying at their workplace for an indefinite amount of hours past their work time.

“Don’t mind me having my boyfriend balls deep inside of me, I’m multitasking, but if we’re being frank I’d appreciate it if you could make it quick. So, what is it?” Dongju spat out, leaving Geonhak cringing on the other side of the line for quite a hot minute, before adding “I was kidding, Jongho’s busy tonight. I’m eating pizza. Alone. And contemplating the frailty of life as I watch an extremely gut wrenching film.”

“What’s the title of the film? Sounds interesting, I might look it up.” Geonhak asked, picking up a pen and a post-it to write it down. 

“Bambi.” As soon as Dongju answered, he clearly heard the sound of Geonhak throwing the pen against the wall, disheartened. “So, what’s the issue? Another  _ extremely detailed project _ that needs to be finished yesterday from his royal majesty Youngjo himself?”

“Your words, not mine, but yeah, you guessed it. We’re talking jewelry, so lots of tight close ups, skin focus, you know the drill, and I need you on board for this one, I don’t have time to instruct another makeup artist on how I like things done. So, what do you say?” At that point of the conversation, Geonhak was practically begging.

“Oh well,” Dongju sighed, after a long pause during which he stood up from the comfort of his sofa and sat down at his table, scribbling on his agenda and drawing a series of circles and arrows to mentally move some of his appointments “If that’s the case, I guess I could rearrange a couple works and make room for this shooting, but it’s just because you’re the one asking.”

“Thank you, Dongju, thank you so much. I’ll call your agency first thing in the morning.” Geonhak said as he picked up his pen from the floor and wrote the memo on a post it. At that point of the night he was probably not going to go home anyway, so he could have saved himself some time and gotten on the phone with Dongju’s supervisor right away as soon as he woke up.

“Do you have any pictures of the models for the campaign?” The younger man asked, with an ill concealed glint of curiosity in his voice, almost as if the screws in his brain had begun to spin at full speed, craving for more information and progressively getting excited about the project.

“No, not yet. I have to make a round of phone calls and see who’s available.” Geonhak answered, quite disheartened as soon as he was reminded of the fact that he and Dongju had to basically come up with a whole concept and organisation for the set from scratch.

“Nah, don’t worry. I might have just the right one for you, I’m emailing you his portfolio right now.” He retaliated, and in that moment Geonhak knew that Dongju was up to something.

Dongju  _ never _ , and by never Geonhak meant  _ NEVER _ , got excited about the perspective of sorting out models between piles and piles of portfolios that were sent to them, and he was always very vocal about his opinions. Most of the time, he would flip through their pictures and comment, with a bored tone, how he either found them too ordinary, too weird, too handsome, too peculiar, and so on, making the whole process of decision making a pain, but at the same time, if Geonhak picked a model without his feedback, he would get extremely sulky and upset at him, so there was never really a way Geonhak could win.

That’s why hearing him so excited all of a sudden made him suspicious.

“Dongju, I’m telling you now and you better listen very carefully to me, if it’s a way to make one of your friends a favour, I swear I’m going to…” But the words died in his throat as soon as Geonhak opened up the pdf of that model and his jaw almost dropped on his desk.

“Shut your mouth or flies will get in.” Dongju commented, without even needing to see Geonhak to know that the one he had sent him was just his type, both as a model and as a man. 

He had that vivid light in his eyes and those sharp features that made him look otherworldly sophisticated and editorial, but at the same time the tension in the pose of his soft lips and in the curve of his neck added a melancholic, languorous hue to his expressions.

As soon as Dongju had seen those shots, he knew that the day would have come when he would have had to bring him to Geonhak’s attention.

“How did you… Nevermind. Who is he?” Geonhak asked, without noticing how his voice instinctively got deeper the longer he stared at the model, looking back at him from his screen and almost calling for his undivided attention, to the point that he didn’t even bother retaliating when Dongju remarked, gloating, “I know, he’s a joy for sore eyes, isn’t he?”.

“Yes. Yes he is.” He just observed, long lost in those vibrant, yet somehow indescribably sad, eyes.

“Do you want me to bring him along tomorrow morning? So that you can, you know, see for yourself.” Dongju suggested with a fake casual tone, that gave away perfectly how excited and overjoyed he was for making that call.

“Yeah, you can come together tomorrow at my studio. Nine A.M. Dongju, on the clock, don’t be late.” Geonhak tried to suppress how obviously thrilled he was at the thought of meeting the model, but luckily enough he managed to keep his composure compensating his excitement with a not so slight intimation, knowing how incredibly keen Dongju was on being constantly late.

“Blah blah blah, ok old man, I’ll see you tomorrow morning then… Oh, by the way, did the divine oracle Youngjo let you know who the designer of this jewelry line is? Or are we left in the dark on that, too?”

“Yeah, I think he said somewhere in the mail that he’s this young, phenomenal jeweler who is already a sort of sensation in the industry. I’m checking his site right now. The name is Kim Hongjoong and he seems to only design one-off pieces, each jewel is basically unique and irrepetible, one could as well say they’re collectors’ items. No wonder Vogue wants to tackle him…” Geonhak observed, scrolling through the site and admiring the creations of the, that is to say, unbelievably skilled jewelcrafter, while a few ideas for the general mood started to arise in his mind, in spite of the fatigue for the long working day. “Anyway, I’ll get to work on a couple moodboards so that tomorrow we can discuss together the concepts. I’ll see you tomorrow Dongju.”

“See you tomorrow, hyung.” Dongju said, hanging up first as per usual.

Then, the makeup artist grabbed his phone and typed a text to his best friend, Hwanwoong, at the speed of light: “Hyung, tell your roommate that I got him the occasion of a lifetime. It’s for a job with Geonhak, tomorrow morning. I need him to be ready at about 9:30, no rush.”

* * *

  
  
  


The following morning, at about 10:25 A.M., 45 missed calls to Dongju later, Geonhak was about to flip his desk out of stress. He loved Dongju, he loved him with his whole heart, but he had this  _ despicable _ habit of being constantly late that made him lose his mind.

When the interphone rang and Dongju’s smiling face appeared on the monitor, Geonhak felt the urge to smack his head right away: there he was, the little shit, all giggles and good spirits, while he had barely slept three hours to make sure everything was already sorted out and that his work was as meticulous as possible.

He took a last, quick look in the mirror to fix his tie and pat his hair in place, before heading to the door and opening it up before Dongju could even ring the bell.

“You’re late, Dongju, I said 9:00 A.M. on the clock-” Geonhak began to speak, but as soon as the model appeared into his visual field, he forgot what he was even mad about.

“Really? Did you? I’m so sorry, I must have forgotten about that.” Dongju chirped, gleefully, as he walked in and mindlessly threw his bag on Geonhak’s desk, which ended up landing on his keyboard.

“Did you hear my voice messages? Youngjo will be here in 30 with a selection of the pieces of jewelry we are supposed to be using for the shooting, and if we don’t-” Once again, Geonhak tried to speak, but Dongju didn’t let him finish the phrase and pushed him, holding his palm firmly against his back, towards the model to introduce them to each other.

“It’ll be fine, don’t get so worked up. Now, remember your manners, will you? We have a guest and you’re already making a scene. Let me introduce you to our model for this project, Choi San, former ballet dancer who has been recently lent to fashion. San, this is Kim Geonhak, artistic director for Vogue Korea. When he’s not on the verge of a meltdown he’s nicer than this.” Dongju said and then defiled himself, allowing the two of them to shake hands, but keeping a watchful eye on their reactions, just in case there could be anything happening worth of being reported to Hwanwoong in real time.

“Pleased to meet you,” Geonhak said, softly shaking San’s hand in his own, carefully trying not to hold it too tight and keeping his eyes low, embarrassed “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s ok, it’s ok, I’ve seen worse.” San remarked with a shy smile on his lips “You clearly have no idea of what happens on the regular at rehearsals when you’re a professionist. Most of the time we were kindly greeted by our choreographer screaming at us why we weren't ready yet, this honestly feels like having tea with the Queen of England.”

The joke brought a smile on the faces of both of them and, at long last, they made eye contact. A sudden, glowing blush rose on the cheeks of both men, while Dongju had to turn around to prevent himself from screaming out of cringe and gloating at the same time.

“So, what are we doing today?” San then asked, breaking the short pause of silence, eyes jolting from Geonhak to Dongju and then back to Geonhak.

“Well, today we’re going to organize our ideas for the shooting and decide which one out of the two concepts I studied would fit best the shooting, but to do that we need to take some shots of you with different looks and then present the projects to Kim Youngjo, the director, who happens to be on his way to the studio as we speak.” Geonhak said, his eyes suddenly getting veiled by a subtle shade of anxiety again “I’ll quickly show you my suggestions and then the two of you can begin.”

The moodboards elaborated by Geonhak were both extremely interesting.

The first one revolved about the concept of stargazing on a beach at night: wet, messy hair, glossy skin, glitter and sand sprinkled all over, the warm light of a bonfire delineating the silhouette of the model’s profile, mother of pearl and shells, impalpable linen robes soaked by salty water, splashes of colourful lights coming from a firework glowing on the model’s face in the darkness.

The second moodboard, instead, had a wholly different concept, since it conceived stargazing as the spectators gazing at the model, who was supposed to embody a constellation: swarovski crystals glued all over the naked skin of his face, neck and shoulders, lashes and brows coated with silvery glitters, lips coated with luminous gloss, blue and lilac highlighter fading into each other and enhancing his bone structure, hair perfectly combed backwards, a blue halo of light at his back and pink neons on the front, to give an overall vibe of surreality and divinity. 

As soon as Geonhak showed San and Dongju the two large cardboard banners where he had sticked the pictures inspiring him and the notes for the details, their mouths went gaping and a soft “ _ woah _ ” left their lips, to which Geonhak almost cried of relief.

“So, what do you say?” Geonhak asked, finding himself wanting to be praised like a child.

“I say that they’re gorgeous, hyung. But I also say that there’s no way we’re going to be able to present two sets of looks for San to Youngjo today. What you have in mind here is hard to achieve in what? 20 minutes? We’ll never have enough time.” Dongju remarked, as he moved towards the desk to pick up his bag and move it to the back of the studio, where Geonhak had arranged a couple of hair and makeup stations.

“Well, excuse you, Sleeping Beauty, if  _ you _ hadn’t been more than one hour late we would have had enough time!” rebuked Geonhak, in the distance, shaking his head and looking at San, who was clearly embarrassed about the whole situation “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Dongju and I just have radically different conceptions of time...”

“Clearly.” San answered, with a smile “But don’t worry, I happen to share your views on punctuality, so maybe next time you want to contact me directly.”

Right before geonhak was about to ask San for his phone number, for absolutely professional reasons, goes without saying, Dongju peeked from the door and gave the both of them an inquisitive look.

“Enough talking, take off your shirt.” He intimated San, while studying Geonhak’s unmissable reaction, which could have very well been summarised as  _ 50 shades of purple _ .

“Here?” The model asked, surprised by the sudden mood shift in Dongju’s attitude, who seemed to have become a completely different person the moment he had picked up a brush in his hands.

The playful boy he had met that morning wasn’t there anymore: in his place, there was an extremely focused and serious professionist, clearly eager to start working on him.

“No, in your bedroom at your parents’ place. Of course here, where would you want to get undressed otherwise?” Dongju retaliated, with his usual stinging sense of humor that left a somehow bittersweet taste in San’s mouth.

He proceeded to unbutton his shirt, but there was an almost imperceptible trembling in his hands that gave away a sense of shyness, of discomfort and brought Geonhak to intervene.

“Wait,” he said, softly grabbing San’s arm and leading him in the other room, while sending Dongju a tellingly severe gaze “You can undress here and then call for Dongju when you’re done. It’s ok to feel taken aback at first, and if you don’t feel comfortable enough today, we can just open your shirt a little more and lower it to sit around your shoulders. Just make sure to let me know what you decide to do today, ok?” Geonhak said, with a kind and reassuring smile, before taking a step towards the door, but feeling a pull at his sleeve.

He turned around and saw San looking at him with glossy eyes and mouth gaping, as he looked for the right words to say.

“I… I don’t know why you’re being so kind, Geonhak-ssi, but thank you. I promise I’ll do better than this… I’m just a little shy and the first meetings really stress me.” He murmured, stumbling on his words every now and then and hugging himself in a demure way to make himself smaller.

“Well,” Geonhak said, delicately placing his hands on top of San’s shoulders and looking right into his eyes, conveying all of his sincerity and empathy towards him “I’m aware of how hard it is. Some models are just naturally confident and they have absolutely no problems with taking off their clothes in front of others, no matter if there’s one person or a full staff in the same room, it just comes as easy as breathing to them. But let me tell you: there’s not so many of them. Most models have gotten accustomed to it with years and years of fashion shows, and yet, when they come here for a shooting, they still hesitate at first, just like you. No matter how perfect their bodies are, how popular they are, how many times they have posed shirtless or straight up naked: there is still that discretion, in their nature, that makes it hard for them to undress in front of others. And I’m talking about models who have done this job since they were 14. You might be used to being on stage and you might have done shootings for your interviews or sponsorship campaigns, at least from what I have seen in your portfolio, but let me tell you: this job is completely different from anything you might have done in your life before, and I don’t want one of your first impacts with it to be traumatic. Just… Allow me this, if I may: you’re beautiful, San. And in case you’re asking yourself whether you were the right choice for this campaign, know that I, in years of experience doing this job, could have never asked for a better candidate. You’re here for a reason, and that is: we want you, and you only. Ok?” 

“Ok” San answered, a grateful smile softly stretching the angles of his lips, while a warm feeling made his way in his chest “Thank you so much for understanding my concerns and for dedicating me so much time, even in such a hectic circumstance.” 

Geonhak knew he was supposed to leave, he knew they should have been making the best out of the few minutes left for preparation they had, and yet something ancored him there where he stood, his eyes helplessly wallowing in San’s ones and something, within his mind, definitely saddened at the thought of having to cut short a conversation that felt way more meaningful than what a first encounter would have usually been.

“I’ll leave you now. Call Dongju when you’re done.” He murmured, politely leaving San to himself, while he left the room with slow steps and the sort of aching nostalgia that one would usually feel in front of a missed chance.

After a few seconds, which Geonhak spent  _ carefully _ dodging any attempt of eye contact made by Dongju, San called for the younger one to join him. As soon as Dongju left the room, Geonhak took a deep breath, but right when he was about to make himself some coffee, he heard the interphone ringing again and his heart dropped all the way down to his guts: Youngjo was there, on perfect time, while he was definitely late and at a loss for any plausible excuse besides “ _ I hired a dumbass who believes that punctuality is the French name for punctuation as a makeup artist _ ”.

When Geonhak opened up the door for Youngjo, though, he couldn’t help but noticing how something, in his appearance, was definitely off: his usually perfectly styled hair was messy and sweaty, his white shirt had an unusual amount of wrinkles and the knot of his tie looked somehow loose.

But what struck Geonhak the most, at first sight, was the fact that Youngjo was not wearing a belt. Youngjo was  _ always _ wearing a belt. He complained all the time about how he never found a decent pair of trousers that would fit his waist, and therefore he hat to take them to a tailor to have them properly adjusted to match him better, but even then, most of the time, he would need a belt to keep them at the proper height. It was extremely strange to see him so disheveled that early in the morning, to the point that Geonhak assumed something bad must have happened to him. 

“Good morning, Youngjo.”

“Good morning, Geonhak, how are you doing? How’s it going here? Is everyone at work already?” Youngjo asked, storming inside the studio and handing Geonhak his coat and briefcase.

“Yeah, Dongju is working on a model, they’ll be done at any minute… Actually, I’m sorry, we have a little bit of a delay with our schedule today, I hope you’re not in too much of a hurry.” Geonhak answered, putting Youngjo’s coat on a hanger and his briefcase on top of his desk. “I was about to make coffee, fancy a cup?”

“Oh! Coffee! Splendid, absolutely splendid, marvellous, dare I say.” When those words left Youngjo’s lips, Geonhak knew he was right: something had happened to him, because in years of mutual knowledge and respectful coworking, he never knew that the words  _ splendid  _ and  _ marvelous  _ were actually part of his vocabulary. 

Nonetheless, he decided to mind his own business and to just proceed to prepare coffee. If he knew Youngjo well enough - _ and he did-  _ he would have told him what was going on in the span of 15 seconds.

15

14

13

12

11

10…

“Geonhak?” He finally asked, in a whisper, getting close to his ear.

“Yeah?” Geonhak answered, raising an eyebrow and meeting Youngjo’s gaze.

“Can they hear us in there?” 

“I don’t know, it depends on how much you’re planning to scream.” 

“Let’s go to the bathroom.” Youngjo eventually suggested, well, actually  _ ordered _ , grabbing Geonhak by the arm and dragging him towards the door at the left end of the studio.

They both got inside the tiny bathroom, Youngjo sitting on the toilet, Geonhak standing with his back pushed against the door to prevent anyone from coming in, just like they did during their early days at work together, when the both of them were just apprentices.

“So, you know that the jewelcrafter for this campaign had to come to my office today to bring me the pieces for the shooting, right?” Youngjo whispered “I lied when I said I had come across his work randomly… I actually spotted him at a party and got interested in him because he actually looked fantastic, and by fantastic, Geonhak, I mean that he was serving cake and it wasn’t even a birthday.”

“Oh no Youngjo, not again…” Geonhak rolled his eyes, suppressing the instinct to slap him across the face he got every time Youngjo came to him with his absurd hookup stories.

“No, no, wait! You need to listen to the whole story!” Youngjo begged, pulling Geonhak towards him by the lower hem of his shirt, so harshly he unbuttoned it “So, I asked for some information about him and discovered his amazing jewelry line and immediately fell in love. It’s all handmade, every piece is absolutely unique, he uses the finest materials and is also extremely careful when choosing his suppliers: only works with fair trade companies that guarantee a fair wage to their workers and that extract minerals and precious stones respecting the land and the local communities. Basically, he’s an angel. As soon as I heard all these things about him, I was a goner. But you know how I am, I hate to strike up a conversation at parties, it’s classless and makes you look desperate, plus I was genuinely interested in him and his work, so I figured: why not catch two birds with one stone? I got in touch with him, suggested the shooting idea for our fashion editorial, about which he was ecstatic, and arranged a meeting. He arrived earlier than scheduled, today, so we had actually a lot of time to get to know each other, discuss his ideas, select the pieces for the shooting together, all that jazz, and then…” 

“And then?” Geonhak asked, pretending to be completely oblivious about the ending of the story.

“And then…” Youngjo said, opening up his shirt and showing him his chest, fancily decorated with bites marks and hickeys and red scratches.

“Did you get in a fight with a raccoon?” Geonhak suggested, bursting out in a loud laugh and almost choking because of Youngjo’s proud expression.

“Fight with a raccoon? More like sex with Kim Hongjoong. I know, it rhymes, I’m a genius, but seriously, Geonhak, and I truly mean this: I think I am in love. Like, he’s breathtakingly handsome, has great sense of beauty, is ethically and environmentally conscious, is crazy talented, has enough creativity to hold the whole fashion industry on his back and carry it on for the next six decades, and is also wild in bed? I was about to hand him the wedding papers.” 

To be honest, Geonhak had never seen or heard Youngjo being like that about anyone, which surely made Kim Hongjoong an interesting subject, but he still couldn’t help but laugh about the way Youngjo looked absolutely crazy in love for the first time in his life. 

And it was all even funnier when Geonhak thought about that circumstance, since he was locked up in his bathroom with the Editor in Chief of Vogue Korea sitting on the toilet, half undressed, all bruised and scratched, and chanting his love for a guy he had met one time and a half.

“So let me get this straight, and that’s the only straight thing I’m gonna get today: you fell for this guy at a party, were too shy to actually talk to him, because I’m not buying all the stuff about being classless and shit you said before, we both know how coy you get in front of handsome men, and decided it would have made much more sense to propose him a shooting of his jewels. Then, as soon as he came into your office, you two ended hooking up at your workplace, where basically everyone could see or hear you, fuck discretion and all that jazz, and you have decided that it must be love. Correct?” Geonhak asked, trying to reconstruct the absurd series of events in the most detailed way possible.

“Thereabouts.” Youngjo said in a tone that was somewhere in the middle between proud and awkward at the same time, shrugging.

“Do you plan on taking him out for dinner sometimes? You know, just to  _ pretend _ you have any knowledge of how actual relationships work?” Geonhak questioned, as he opened up the door of the bathroom, meaning that the conversation was over, but also wanting to go and check the coffee.

“Should I? Do I buy him a present? A bracelet?” Youngjo asked, following him, while he buttoned up his shirt on his way out and pushed the shirt back inside his trousers.

“Youngjo, no offense but  _ full offense _ , a bracelet? To a jewelcrafter? Do you want to be dumped before even getting together?” Geonhak turned around and stared at him, his brows furrowed, questioning in his mind how on Earth could have someone as socially awkward as Youngjo be, at the same time, so absurdly good at his job to end up being the director of the most important fashion magazine in South Korea.

“Ah, shit, right. Flowers? Roses?” He asked, suddenly looking like a child needing guidance.

“Roses might be too intense on a first date. Go for a bouquet of assorted flowers.” Geonhak answered, pouring the coffee in two tall ceramic cups and handing one to Youngjo.

“Had fun?” All of a sudden, Dongju’s voice made the both of them turn around and reminded them that they were not alone.

On the other side of the room, San and him were staring at them and, solely judging by their gazes, Geonhak could tell they were assuming everything wrong about him and Youngjo, but then again, he noticed way too late how he had seen them getting out of the bathroom: his own shirt unbuttoned, Youngjo getting dressed back up and still sweaty, the misunderstanding was basically handed to them on a silver platter.

“It’s not what it seems.” Geonhak tempestively said, without even knowing why he was justifying himself “It’s what everyone says, but this time it’s definitely not what it seems.”

“Why, what does it seem?” Youngjo asked, taking a sip of his coffee and choking on it shortly after, before bursting out in laughter “Wait, what? Oh, no, no, no, no, we were definitely not doing anything like  _ that _ , jeez! First of all, I know Geonhak too well to want to hook up with him, second of all have you seen that bathroom? Yeah, just as i thought.”

“Anyway, I like roses on a first date. They tell you the guy is a keeper.” San said, joining the conversation, before taking off the silk dressing gown with an excruciatingly slow, sensuous movement of his shoulders, making it drop on the floor and revealing himself, almost completely naked and covered up in crystals and iridescent glitters sprinkled on the high points of his bones and muscles, where the lights were supposed to hit him, in front of Youngjo and Geonhak’s enchanted eyes.

Needless to say, that sight shut them up for quite a few seconds more than expected.

“Hello, my name is Choi San. I’m the model for the campaign.” He added, strutting up to Youngjo and shaking his hand with a wink.

“Of course you are.” Youngjo answered, giving him a look that was definitely too long for Geonhak’s tastes, who had been staring at San with the look of a wounded animal.

What had happened to the delicate, shy person he had talked to a few minutes before?

What made him shift his attitude in such an abrupt way?

Unless… Nah, that idea was way too self complacent. It couldn’t be.

Maybe he just wanted to make an impression on Youngjo, and rightfully so. 

After all, who, in their right mind, wouldn’t have wanted to try his hardest in front of Youngjo?

He couldn’t really blame him.

He had seen it happen many times before.

But in spite of that, he still felt somewhat hurt by the way with which San tried so blatantly to be someone he knew he was not.

That mood overcame him with the violence of a wave and didn’t let go of him for the whole length of the meeting.

Nothing brought joy to Geonhak anymore, after that.

San was so handsome, successful, famous… What kind of hope would he have even had to be noticed by someone like him in a way that was not just professional? Geonhak was used to that.

He was just the one dude who had the job to make them look good and edit out their flaws. That’s who he was for all of the models he encountered, and then again, why would he have ever been anything else? He had been dumb in the first place to allow San’s sweetness and soft charms to get to his heart, but then again, he was just any other model. Or so Geonhak tried to convince himself, while he blankly walked Youngjo through his ideas for the shooting, trying to conceal the growing sense of anger he felt growing within himself towards him, for stealing all of San’s attention away and not even noticing.

“Shouldn’t we take a couple pictures with the jewels on?” Youngjo suggested, pointing at Geonhak and asking him to get close to him, in front of the briefcase. 

“Care to tell me what the fuck is going on?” He whispered, giving Geonhak  _ the look. _

“Nothing? Why?” Geonhak whispered back, clearly incapable of actually hiding his feelings.

“Whatever it is that’s going through your mind, snap out of it. I need you to be professional now.” Youngjo scolded him, his voice suddenly dead serious and his attitude back to being the Director.

“Says you…” He hissed, in return, earning himself a powerful clench around his forearm and a yank that pulled him as close as possible to Youngjo’s face.

“Don’t even try this with me, Geonhak. In your fucking bathroom or outside of this building, we’re friends, but right here and right now we’re at work, and I expect you to behave accordingly. Understood?” Youngjo stated, with a severity he very seldom needed to show, unless the circumstance required it.

Geonhak nodded and, before anyone else could notice, he put a wide smile on his face and picked up a pair of earrings from their velvet coffer.

He walked to the center of the set and called for San, who joined him right away.

“Don’t be nervous now, ok? What is going to happen is that we will take a few pictures of you as a general sample to work on later, when we will define some further details. This is not the final photoshoot, but we need it to have an overall idea, so no pressure, but nonetheless try to give me as many poses and intensity as you can.” Geonhak said, trying to be as kind and reassuring as he could, keeping in his mind the fragility that San had shown him before and advising him accordingly.

San nodded and smiled, getting one step closer to Geonhak and standing on his tiptoes in order to help him put the earrings on his lobes.

Then, without saying a word, Geonhak moved around to set the lightning in place. After that, he grabbed his camera and walked right in front of San.

“Whenever you’re ready.” He said, to give him the time to pose.

San tried to look as natural and elegant as he possibly could, remembering everything he had learnt from ballet about conveying emotions and needing to feel as intensely as he could what he was trying to express.

“Gorgeous,” Geonhak said, swiftly adjusting the lights after taking the first trial shot. “You look gorgeous.” He remarked, once more, with a glint of melancholy in his voice that made San frown and focus on him, forgetting about the whole entourage, about the coldness crippling along his limbs, about the blinding white lights surrounding him, about the painfully heavy earrings hanging on his lobes, even about holding his pose.

He focused on Geonhak, on his gentle eyes staring back at him, intense, careful, yet ever so slightly veiled with a wistfulness he couldn’t get the grasp of.

San had been called gorgeous many times- that was just a given, both as a dancer and, more recently, as a model, to the point that the word had almost become a meaningless series of familiar phonemes with no depth or feeling at all. 

_ Pose. “Gorgeous.” _

A routine. 

_ Pose. “Gorgeous.” _

A habit.

_ Pose. “Gorgeous.” _

A cruel mockery, even.

But Geonhak was different, and San  _ saw _ him. 

Geonhak called him gorgeous like he meant it. 

Geonhak called him gorgeous like it hurt him.

And San couldn’t help himself but think how he would have loved to tell Geonhak that, out of all the people in that room, the truly gorgeous one was him.

“Give me a profile.” Geonhak said, all of a sudden, and San obeyed, trying to stretch his neck as high as he could to provide a good angle, but for some reasons, he didn’t hear the sound of the camera’s shutter anymore “Dongju, where the hell are his neck freckles? I am pretty sure I saw them in his book.”

San closed his eyes, trying to kick back the tears he felt rising as soon as his freckles were mentioned. He was used to coating them up and hiding them, for he had always been told how uneven his neck’s skin looked and how it was a flaw he had to hide when he was on stage.

“Yeah, but he asked me to cover them up.” Dongju explained, innocently “I didn’t think it would have been an issue.”

“Take the makeup off of his neck.” He said, severely.

“Geonhak, I don’t think it’s necessary…” Youngjo tried to intervene, but got instantly shut down by Geonhak, who turned towards him with a fiery gaze and an indescribable tension in his jaw.

“You wanted professionality? Then you’ve gotta expect it out of everyone in here. When you’ll be directing a shooting, you’ll have a word on methods and choices. But right now you are just supervising, so don’t discuss my creative decisions.” Geonhak retaliated, with an unexpected harshness that made even Youngjo prefer backing up and letting him do his thing.

Dongju came back in a second with a wet wipe in his hand and promptly removed the layer of concealer and foundation from San’s neck, whispering a quick “Sorry”, while San stared at him, lost and begging for help with his eyes.

“Shall we proceed? San, are you ready?” Geonhak asked. 

San turned around towards him, eyes filled up with glimmering tears, and nodded.

_ No matter what _ -he remembered his instructor, Sunmi, telling him every time he felt self conscious or nervous-  _ the show must go on. Even if they’re mean, even if they make you sad, even if you’re not feeling well, the show must go on. _

And Geonhak had never been mean or had purposely made him sad, but nonetheless, he was not comfortable with showing that one thing about himself which he perceived as a major flaw, incapable to voice that discomfort.

So he just stood there, frozen, trying to look straight at the camera with the firmest expression ever, yet feeling like the life had been sucked out of him.

The shooting finished a few shots after, yet it felt like hours, for San, who couldn’t wait to slip back into his clothes and go home.

“Good job, everyone.” Geonhak said, when he finished, sitting to his pc and immediately loading the pictures to discuss the results with Youngjo, while Dongju and San went back in the other room.

Overall, Youngjo was definitely satisfied and left a few minutes after Geonhak had sent him the shots they had chosen together for further considerations. 

Right when Geonhak was about to call Dongju and ask for his opinion as well, though, he heard a hiccup coming from the dressing room, and even though his rational self told him not to go, he found himself walking up to the other chamber before he even knew.

There, in the faint, warm lightning of the makeup station’s light bulbs, sitting on a chair with Dongju kneeled down and resting his head on his lap while holding his hand, was San, sobbing uncontrollably.

As soon as Dongju noticed him, he stood up and walked up to him.

“You better apologise.” He hissed in a venomous tone, before picking up his bag and leaving the studio with a door slam.

When Dongju left, Geonhak took a deep breath, dragged a chair in front of the one where San was and sat down, handing him his linen handkerchief.

“I come in peace.” He said, waiting for San to acknowledge his presence.

After a little, San raised his eyes and forced a half smile to stretch his lips, as he accepted the handkerchief and dried his eyes with trembling hands.

“I wish I could say something that made any sense, right now.” The model muttered, through the sighs, his body shaking under the poor coverage supplied by the dressing robe.

“I’m very sorry if I have said or done anything that hurt you. It was not my intention, and I would like to apologise, since it looks like I have inadvertently struck quite a sensitive nerve.” Geonhak started to speak, delicately, almost as if San was some sort of fragile crystal sculpture, ready to shatter in a thousand pieces at the softest touch, but while he was still trying to find the words in his mind, he felt the model’s hands grabbing his own, and his mind went blank at his touch, leaving him speechless and with the only desire to hug him.

“It’s just that… Today everything was so overwhelming. I had never posed on such an important set, and I had never met so many important people, and I was there and… I just couldn’t help but think about all the things I hate about myself… I’m unattractive… I have small eyes... My skin is so ugly… My freckles are so embarrassing and I feel so uncomfortable when they’re on display… I know it’s stupid and irrational, but having no makeup to cover them up made me feel so defenseless…” San sighed, holding Geonhak’s hands tighter and trying to look away, ashamed of himself “I know I have lacked professionality today, and if you need to fire me because of this scene, I can perfectly understand it…”

“San, what are you even saying? Firing you? Why would I?” Geonhak eventually decided to throw all of his self restraint and composure away and went to hug San as tight as he could, wrapping him into a warm embrace, caressing his back and brushing through his hair with his fingers. “I would never fire you for simply being human and having insecurities. We all do. I just wish you would have told me right away, so that I could have avoided making you feel uncomfortable. I’m sorry about this whole situation, I was not trying to exploit a weakness of yours, I truly love your freckles and I thought that such a unique feature should have been captured for the world to see how beautiful it truly makes you. Your skin is incredible, San, and if you want to know all the truth, your freckles are exactly the unique trait that earned you this job. As soon as I saw them, I thought that no other model could have been a more appropriate choice for a theme such as _ Stargazing _ , since you seem to have a whole galaxy on yourself. But then again, if it makes you feel uncomfortable or unsafe, we can have them covered up. I’m ok with everything, as long as you’re fine.” 

“Really?” San mewled under his breath, his face still buried deep in Geonhak’s chest, getting slowly soothed by the calm beat of his heart and finding a comfort he had never expected to encounter by listening to his deep voice speaking at such a slow, gentle pace.

“Really. You’re beautiful, San. Everything about you is beautiful.” He whispered, calmly waiting for San to part from his embrace, since he knew, deep inside, that if it had depended on him, he would have never let go. 

A thought that almost made Geonhak’s heart shatter crossed his mind: he liked him.

He already liked him more than he would have wanted to admit.

And when San raised his head and pushed his forehead against Geonhak’s, it took him all of the self control he could possibly exert to not give in to his instinct and close the gap between their lips to kiss him.

“Then maybe we can find a solution. We can ask Dongju to put crystals on my freckles, that way they won’t be straight up exposed and you’ll still get your constellation. What do you say?” San asked, his gleaming eyes staring at him, expectantly, as he playfully rubbed his forehead against Geonhak’s one.

“Deal.” Geonhak murmured and smiled back, feeling his heart increasingly race the more he looked at San’s delightful smile “Now get dressed back up,  _ starboy _ . You must be cold.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


After an extenuating chain of phone calls to make all the proper arrangements and to obtain all the needed permissions to occupy a certain portion of Hyeopjae beach in Jeju island, not to mention a just as tiring conversation with Youngjo to inform him that yes, they were going to do the shootings for both of the concepts as he wanted them to, Geonhak, Dongju, San and Jongho, Dongju’s boyfriend, all left for Jeju.

Geonhak had booked three hotel rooms for all of them, so that they could arrive there at night, have dinner, rest, go for an inspection of the beach they booked in the morning, begin their work around noon, then take a break and go back there at sunset for the second part of the shooting, sleep there for another night and leave early the following morning.

Though they would have usually had a lot more people going on for a shooting, Geonhak had decided to cut down the staff and only bring Jongho as an extra help on set. 

In the end, all that mattered was to be able to carry out a job well done, and since Geonhak and San had had their talk, he deemed San’s comfort to be essential, therefore he only asked for Jongho’s help on set as an assistant. He knew him well enough to believe he would have been discreet, respectful and willing to help, and plus he didn’t have it in his heart to keep him and Dongju parted for a weekend: the both of them worked almost always and that was the only time they could spend together in a whole week, therefore, as he used to do when it was possible, Geonhak tried his best to concile everyone’s needs.

After they arrived and had dinner together, everyone went to their room pretty quickly, starting with San, who needed to have a shower, and, after him, Dongju and Jongho followed pretty soon, after giggling something to each other’s ears, leaving Geonhak alone and with a champagne bottle to finish.

He grabbed it by its neck and, instead of going to his bedroom as well, he went for a walk on the beach in front of their hotel. After a while, he sat down on the shore and took a sip of champagne. 

The stars were exceptionally bright that night, and for a moment, just for a moment, he wished that, like in the movies, he would have turned around and seen San at his back, staring and smiling at him with that adorable sweet expression of his.

He wished he would have joined him, in perfect silence, grabbed his hand into his smaller ones, rubbing his head against his chest with that natural intimacy that only lovers have, and that they would have stayed there, looking at the night sky, until they lost the sense of time.

But when Geonhak turned around, San was not there, and he was still alone with his wine bottle and no one to hold his arms. Not like anyone else who was not San would have mattered to him, but sometimes Geonhak felt like it was better, for his own sake, to not give a name to his heart’s desires. To pretend he didn’t know exactly who he wanted. To pretend he didn’t dream of him, and him only, or that he didn’t long for every single slightest touch, for every fleeting gaze, for every hinted smile. The zesty taste of the champagne and its prickly bubbles itching on his tongue left Geonhak’s mouth dry and bitter, and since his heart was clenching under the ineluctable grip of the sadness’ shadow, he thought that another bad decision wouldn’t have harmed him too much, so he picked up a slim, vanilla flavoured cigar from a silver custody he always wore in the inner pocket of his blazer and lit it up with a long, intense drag. 

He laid down on the sand, careless about his expensive clothes or how long it would have taken him to wash it away from his hair, closed his eyes and allowed the sound of the waves caressing the shore to lull him in a state of deep relaxation, while he alternated one drag of the cigar with one sip of champagne.

Part of him felt at peace.

Part of him knew it was just an illusory pause from his real state of mind.

For the first time, after having committed so much to prevent himself from falling for someone, he was reminded, by the burning sensation he felt in his chest, of how intensely he could feel for someone. 

But Geonhak was not a kid anymore, and he knew that dreaming was a useless diversion from the harshness of reality, so he cursed his heart for having taken the unapproved liberty to dream of him and San together and, when all there was left of the cigar was ashes and the champagne had eventually been swallowed to its last drop, he got back to his room, limping and drunken with utter disenchantment and random visions of love.

He would have regretted everything the following morning.

However, for that moment, he decided he could have afforded to go to sleep wallowing just a little more in the painful thought of having San laying next to him to kiss him goodnight.

The following morning, when Geonhak woke up, he noticed how he had fallen asleep still dressed up and how, much to his displeasure, his bed was filled with sand. He undressed and threw himself right into the shower, trying to rinse his hair as thoroughly as he possibly could and to remove the smell of alcohol and smoke from his skin and his mouth. He washed his teeth, shaved and poured on himself a probably excessive dose of perfume which he somehow deemed absolutely necessary. When he got out of the bathroom, though feeling much better, he still wasn’t fully awake. For a few seconds he had the temptation to order breakfast via room service, but then he reconsidered the idea in favor of taking a walk to the restaurant.

When he arrived, to his surprise the whole restaurant was almost completely empty.

Geonhak checked his watch. It was 6:30 A.M., way too late for his own rhythms, way too early for most other people. If he focused enough, he could have probably heard Dongju and Jongho snore from there. 

“Oh well,” he said to himself “I guess I’ll have to go to check the beach myself.”, while pouring himself a cup of coffee and putting a couple of hard boiled eggs, a toast and some rice on a dish, before heading towards an isolated table next to one of the large windows. 

After he sat down and ate most of his food, Geonhak pulled out a small notebook where he had scribbled his to-do list for the day, but right when he was about to go through it from the beginning, he heard the sound of a dish and cutlery being placed in front of him and, when he raised his gaze, he had to make an effort to keep his mouth closed.

“Good morning!” gleefully chirped San, sitting down in front of him and swiftly putting a strawberry from his -quite stuffed- dish in his mouth.

Saying he looked amazing would have been an insult: his platinum blonde hair was still wet and dripping on his neck, his skin looked ever so slightly sunkissed on the cheeks and nose and the white lace shirt he was wearing was basically begging to be torn apart.

“Good morning,” Geonhak answered, crossing his legs to suppress any increasing evidence of just  _ how _ happy he was to see him “Did you sleep well?”

“Yup! Slept great, then I woke up at 5:00, went for a run, took a shower and here I am… Gosh I’m starving… I was hoping to not find anyone able to witness how much I eat in the morning, but since it’s you, I’m counting on your silence.” San answered, playfully, before taking a big bite of a croissant stuffed with custard and a sip of chocolate milk.

“You have my word. To hell with diet.” Geonhak said with a complicit wink, while San kept eating the ungodly amount of food in his dish: the croissant, a cup filled with yogurt, berries and honey, two pancakes, a muffin and a toast.

“To hell with diet! Plus, I have a sweet tooth and very low sugar, a nice breakfast after one hour of exercise won’t hurt” San said, with his mouth still full “But tell me about you! Did you sleep well?”

“Not much, but I definitely crashed as soon as I touched the mattress.” Geonhak answered, trying to push back all of his thoughts regarding him and San from the night before.

“Ah, that’s why! I went to the beach, after the shower, but you had probably already left.” He stated, as naturally as possible, and probably didn’t even notice how those words made Geonhak almost have a heart attack, while he mentally cursed himself for not waiting for San a little longer.

“Oh…” Geonhak murmured “Were you looking for me? Why?”

“Oh, no particular reason…” San answered, lowering his gaze and smiling, while slightly blushing “I guess I just wanted to talk a little before going to sleep. But it was a good thing I didn’t find you, this way I went to bed very early… I can be overly talkative most of the time, and I know you’d be too kind to tell me if I’m bothering you. Plus, maybe you wanted some time alone and if we had met I might have ruined it, so…”

“San,” Geonhak promptly said, interrupting the model’s rambling and putting one hand on top of his ones “You’d never bother me. Now, do you want to come with me to the beach, before we start the shooting? I need to check for a few details and I’d like it if you could come with me.”

“Me? Really? Sure!” San answered, a gleam of joy suddenly glimmering in his eyes as he jolted up from his chair and pulled Geonhak’s arm to rush him to stand up “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” He chanted happily, without even noticing how much joy seeing him smile had single-handedly brought to Geonhak’s heart.

When they arrived at the area of the beach which they had booked for their shooting, San and Geonhak carefully checked for any litter that tourists might have left there the day before and verified that every corner of said area was perfectly clean, then Geonhak called the hotel staff and asked them to kindly seal off the place, to make sure that no one would have been able to occupy it.

Then, after the staff placed a series of metallic barricades under Geonhak’s watchful eye, he had them bring some beach umbrellas, tables, chairs and an extension cord, in order to organize the set as soon as possible.

“Dongju? Are you awake?” Geonhak asked on the phone, surprised to have obtained an answer after the 27th phone call.

“Mh-hm…” Dongju answered,  _ clearly  _ not awake.

“You have one hour to get ready and have breakfast, then I need you and Jongho at the beach with all the equipment, the make up, the dresses and the lights. Got it?” He tried to speak, loud and slow, to keep Dongju at the phone long enough for him to not fall asleep again.

“Got it, cowboy…” The makeup artist whined, on the phone, his voice still sleepy.

“Don’t make me come get you. And no morning quickie!” Geonhak said, hating how he had to specify it  _ every single time _ .

Then, when he hung up, he walked up to San, who was standing bare footed, with his blue trousers rolled up all the way to his calves, on the shore, enjoying the way the waves gently caressed his lean ankles.

“Aren’t you calling your boyfriend?” San asked, instinctively turning around as soon as he heard Geonhak’s steps getting closer to him.

“My  _ who _ ?” Geonhak couldn’t believe his ears when he heard that question.

“Your boyfriend, the director. Youngjo? Did I get his name correctly?” San insisted, trying to look as oblivious as he could, but there was an unusual spike of sourness in his voice that gave away all of the disingenuity that was underlying his question. 

Funnily enough, that made Geonhak smile.

“You perfectly got his name, but that’s the only correct thing you understood about me and Youngjo.” Geonhak answered, in a gentle yet amused tone, while he took off his shoes and rolled up his trousers as well to join San and look him in the eyes as he spoke “Youngjo and I arrived at Vogue at about the same time. We had just gotten out of university and we were hired at only a few months of distance. Needless to say, no one liked having us around, nor did anyone try to teach us our jobs, so we figured that, if we teamed up and helped each other, we would have gotten better results than if we kept on struggling on our own. This way, when we conciliated Youngjo’s innate sense of fashion and his capability to get in touch with stylists with my ideas for fashion editorials and my knowledge of different photographic techniques, we basically became unstoppable. Our collaboration brought us on a roll and, sooner than we could even realize, our projects were so appreciated that we ended from the last two pages of the fashion editorial to being assigned the cover story. With time, our seniors, Kim Yongsun and Moon Byulyi, who had seen our potential and greatly appreciated our efforts, decided to support Youngjo’s nomination to the position of Director. As soon as he got the job, I was chosen to replace the previous photography director, who was close to retirement, and this is thereabouts the whole story about how we have gotten to where we are now. We’re very close friends, we get along perfectly well when it comes to work, but we tend to diverge on many other things that would make a relationship between us basically unconceivable. Youngjo is shy, but he also knows how to be very straightforward. He’s confident, charming, definitely knows how to appeal to people, but most of all, he is very concrete, practical, and perfectly knows where he stands in every relationship he entertains. He loves to love, he loves to be loved, but there’s always an element of… I wouldn’t call it vanity, more like self centeredness in his relationships, which is very healthy, but of which I’m not capable of. He’s the sun, and he knows it. So you either have to be disposed to revolve around him or you have to be another sun, just as bright and powerful, in order to have a relationship with him. And I am neither of those things.”

By the end of his speech, Geonhak couldn’t look at San’s eyes anymore. He just allowed to his gaze to mindlessly wallow on the bright line of the horizon, losing his focus over the glimmering silhouette of the waves, while his heart ached a little as he spoke about Youngjo with that nostalgia with which are covered the missed chances, the unspoken feelings, the occasions lost because of life’s capability to join the wrong persons at the wrong time with the right feelings.

“You must have loved him a lot.” San whispered, his eyes glassy with a thin layer of tears, as he, in spite of what Geonhak thought, could feel what he was trying to conceal and, just like a knife tossing in a festering wound, was not going to allow it to slip.

“I did. And so did he, in his own way, or at least so I want to believe. But nothing ever happened, and I believe it was for the best. We spared each other a lot of heartache. Me and Youngjo… We don’t communicate in a compatible way, we don’t function in a compatible way. We don’t love in a compatible way.” Geonhak said, and finally his eyes, wet with tears as well, met San’s ones and revealed to him all of the ancient sadness he had been harboring and never spoke about in all of those years. 

“Why, how do you love?” San dared to ask, after a long pause of silence, during which his timid fingers reached for Geonhak’s and softly slipper in the holes between them, finding their perfect fit just as naturally as if they always belonged there, in that warm space meant to be filled with gentleness and tenderness.

“Unconditionally.” Geonhak said, letting the word slip from his lips and float in the marine breeze, before turning around and wrapping his spare arm around San’s waist, to pull him closer to his chest.

He closed his eyes, blinded by the sun and by the beauty of his starboy, while his perfume inebriated him with its high pitched notes of bergamot and its gourmand base of sugary lime and his lips unfolded under the promise of rendezvous with San’s ones.

There, under the bright light of the early morning sun, whose warm, pinkish hue embraced them in a landscape of the likes of a dream, through fluttering lashes and hesitant caresses, nose tips rubbing and shy giggles, their lips met in a coveted kiss for which the both of them had been yearning for so long, while their chests bursted in a choir of rushed heartbeats and longing sighs, as every single fibre of their beings and every single spec of their souls seemed to whisper, along with the wind, a desperately relieved “ _ I found you _ ”.

“I’m sorry.” Geonhak muttered when their lips reluctantly parted, cupping San’s face in his hands with incredulity, almost as if that touch would suddenly make him more real than he already was.

“You should be.” San answered, placing his palms on Geonhak’s shoulders to push himself up, on his tiptoes, and kiss him again, while the other man slid his hands from his cheeks to his waist to support him in his strong, tight embrace.

“Oh, really? And why, if I may ask?” This time, it was Geonhak’s turn to sprinkle San’s face with kisses every here and there, with an impetus of joyfulness he had forgotten he was capable of feeling.

“Because you should have kissed me more, and sooner.” He said, surging forward once more and kissing the photographer on the lips, taking his time to nibble on his lower lip and to slide his tongue inside his mouth. 

It tasted like coffee. 

It tasted bitter. 

But then again, so did love, and San was not afraid to pour all of the sweetness in his heart to counterbalance that initial flavor and make it right.

After all, good things were good on their own, but it took two to make them perfect.

And being there, in front of the sea, caressed by the breeze and by Geonhak’s hands, while he held him tight and looked at him with the one that looked like a promise of never letting go, felt perfect enough for San.

The enchanting moment, though, was quickly interrupted.

A few meters away from them, they heard Jongho’s voice calling for their attention.

“Hyung! Hyung! Where am I supposed to put these?” Jongho screamed, with all the air he had in his surely quite capacious lungs, holding the bags with all of the equipment in his hands.

“Coming!” Geonhak screamed back, taking a last, adoring gaze at San, before unwillingly letting go of his hold around him and walking up to the spot where Jongho and Dongju were.

“You could have waited a little more to let them do whatever it was that they were doing.” Dongju scolded his boyfriend, pretending to be extremely disturbed by what he had seen, while he texted about what had just happened to Hwanwoong.

“Why, what were they doing?” Jongho asked, unimpressed. It was not like they had caught them rolling naked on the beach, he didn’t get all the fuss about seeing two people kissing… To him, it was quite obvious that there was something going on between those two, even from the way they looked at each other the day before.

“Being disgusting.” Dongju stated, with a satisfied smirk, before putting his trolley down next to one of the tables previously arranged by the hotel’s staff.

Then, San joined Dongju to get dressed up and have his hair and makeup done, while Jongho and Geonhak began to fix the lights and the refracting panels.

“So,” Dongju said, busy applying some golden crystals on San’s neck freckles “Are you serious with him?”

“Excuse me?” San asked back, suddenly staring at him in shock, surely not expecting such a straightforward question.

“You heard me. I knew that the two of you were going to be dancing around each other before you even met, but you need to be aware that Geonhak is not someone to give his heart away just like that. You should not lead him on, unless you mean to commit. I’ve seen him heartbroken once and I do not intend to replicate the experience, work becomes hell.” Dongju tried to give a comedic turn to his speech, but San could clearly see that there was some serious concern in his words, which made him appreciate the makeup artist even more than he already did.

Dongju had always been extremely sensitive and kind with him, from the very first time they met: he listened to his concerns, made his best to make him look so beautiful that San almost couldn’t recognise himself, seconded his requests, understood him when he needed to vent. Noticing how he cared and worried about Geonhak only increased how much San valued him as a person, for he always proved to be a loving individual, a loyal friend and a gentle soul. For some weird reason, he was thankful for the fact that Dongju was Geonhak’s friend.

“Dongju, I really like him. I know we haven’t known each other for long, but… I really, really like Geonhak. I would never lead him on just for fun. That’s not me. I’m for real, and I’m glad to understand that so is he.” San answered in a polite tone and with a gentle smile, while Dongju nodded and muttered something on the lines of “You’d better” as he got back to his work and vigorously combed his hair backwards, meaning that the talk was over and that they were back to business as usual.

After Dongju applied a definitely generous amount of wax and gel on San’s hair and sprinkled up his hair and skin with golden glitter and sand, he adjusted a draped, thin, beige, linen dress on him, put on his ears a pair of beautiful earrings with a cluster of golden pearls and diamonds on a yellow gold setting, a pearl and gold necklace from the same collection, two armband-like bracelets, with diamonds and pearls embedded in a heavy, yellow gold bandeau around his wrists, and then sent him for the shooting.

“You look so beautiful, San.” Geonhak murmured, gently, as he held his hand out for him to take and to support him on his way to the shore “First, we are going to take a few pictures of you standing up in front of the sea, then we will need you to lay down on the shore. I can’t guarantee that the water won’t be too cold, so please try to endure it for a few minutes, but if you’re cold you should definitely let us know, so that we can warm you up and then go back to shooting. Then, our last location will be that group of rocks over there. Do you think you can lay down on them and give us a few nice face expressions?”

“Sure, we can try that. I’ll do my best to follow all of your instructions and to provide all the poses you had in mind.” San answered, vigorously nodding his head and laughing, every now and then, at the funny way with which the earrings kept dangling at every movement of his head.

“Good. Jongho, could you gently turn the reflective panel on the golden side and try to bring as much light as you can to San’s face?” Geonhak asked, before getting closer to San’s face and telling him “If it feels overwhelming or your eyes start to tear up because of the light, keep them closed until I tell you to pose, ok?”, to which San answered with a nod and a smile, before getting in pose and waiting for Geonhak to be ready to shoot.

Much to Geonhak’s surprise, San seemed a lot more confident after that he had the idea to have his freckles covered by crystals. He loved to see how he took every chance to make every element he had on the highlight of the picture, without ending up being swallowed by the jewelry. San seemed to have a sort of sixth sense for giving the perfect relevance to everything he was wearing, while still keeping all of the intensity of the emotion in his eyes, a soft relaxation in his mouth and a dynamic tension in his neck and jaw. None of his poses was the same as the previous ones, and so he did with his expressions, trying to convey, with every picture, a different aspect of the emotional range he was capable of bringing up with his facial muscles only. But what left Geonhak breathless was how he almost never had to correct his posture in relation to the light, because San showed such a great awareness of his angles and an interiorized perception of the lights and shadows that made basically every single picture worthy of the final selection for the actual campaign. 

When it came to getting inside the water and to lay down on the rocks, not a complaint left his mouth, even though both him and Jongho kept asking him whether he was ok or if he needed a break: San seemed to be absolutely unstoppable and fueled with a determination, with a strive for perfection, that led him to deliver a series of flawless pictures, even when he was tested by the most challenging circumstances.

When a wave covered up his face, San opened up his eyes and pushed his head up with just the perfect timing to make him look like he was floating underwater.

When the dress got caught in the rocks, he turned on himself to assume the pose of a mermaid stuck in a fisherman’s net.

When the light blinded him, he minded to cover only one eye with his hand and to put the bracelet in the foreground, and so on and so forth, until they had all the elements they needed for the diurnal shooting and ended up finishing in advance. 

When they all got back to their rooms to rest, Geonhak couldn’t wait and he started reviewing all the pictures from that morning right away, while silently eating his lunch on the bed, but as soon as he started to look at the slideshow of San’s shooting, he soon forgot about food, only capable to focus on him.

He looked so beautiful and ethereal it almost made him cry. 

The photos seemed to come straight from a dream, as San had embodied to perfection this mirage, this miraculously majestic creature of light, animated by an unspeakable grace and filled with mystery and emotion that transpired from his indescribably powerful gaze, that captured the observer right away and gently led him in a gleaming vision of impalpable beauty and breathtaking luminosity.

The more Geonhak went through them, the more he found himself lost studying the pictures, which revealed to him so much more about San than his words ever did.

He looked invincible and distant, yet fragile and demure, eyes filled with a charm that lured him like a siren’s song, but a delicate firmness in his brows begging not to get too close, lips softly unfurled and glossy waiting to be kissed, but teeth in sight as if he was ready to bite.

And so, Geonhak sunk deep in the small opening that San had most likely unvolountarily left for him to peek on his soul, feeling all of his delicateness, his generosity, his kindness, his innocence, his emotional richness, all of his need to be loved and to trust someone with his feelings, but also all of his frailty and his fear of being broken, all of his restraint and all of his caution. He saw a light so bright it could have put the sun to shame, and a depth so profound it would have made the abysses look shallow. 

Then, the sudden realization hit him: San had not been posing for a photoshoot, that morning.

He had been posing for Geonhak to see him.

He had been speaking to him all the time, and he had noticed it only then.

Geonhak stared for a few minutes more to those pictures, then laid down on his bed and smiled, letting the memories from that morning poorly replicate the feeling of Sankissing him and, just like a lullaby, pull him in a dream where their hands endlessly tangled with each other and their lips kept dancing together an eternal waltzer without ever parting.

* * *

A short nap and another shower after, to rinse away the salt and the sunscreen, and Geonhak was ready to go back on set for the second part of the shooting.

When he arrived at the beach, much to his surprise, Dongju and Jongho were already there, preparing the bonfire and checking the led strips they had bought to emulate the lights of the fireworks.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if we had marshmallows to roast?” Dongju whined “What’s the purpose of having a bonfire without marshmallows…”

“Well maybe if you’ll ask kindly enough  _ someone _ will bring marshmallows for you to roast” Jonho answered, pulling out a huge bag of marshmallows from his backpack, at the sight of which Dongju threw himself at his neck and placed a loud, wet kiss on his cheek “Wait, you have to ask kindly before you get some!”

“I am asking kindly!” Dongju moaned, burying his face in Jongho’s neck, who, as an answer, kissed him on his forehead.

“Ok, ok, but only after we’re finished working here. Duty first.” Jongho said, taking the bag of marshmallows away and putting it on one of the tables under the umbrellas, Dongju still hanging on his neck giggling as his boyfriend dragged him on the sand.

“What’s left to do?” He then asked, checking the set to find other tasks he could help with.

Geonhak really liked Jongho. He was a sweet, hardworking, young man and he complemented Dongju’s character perfectly. At first sight, they seemed to come from two completely different worlds, but once one saw them interacting it was clear as day that they were meant to be together, and it was extremely heartwarming to see them grow together happier and closer than ever. They had that kind of relationship that seemed to not be affected in the slightest by time, distance or habit: instead of getting bored, they found new mutual interests, tried new hobbies, shared passions, constantly contributing to their mutual growth, while still cherishing each other just like the first day.

For a second, Geonhak thought he wished him and San would have been able to do the same, but he had to tempestively remind himself that him and San were not even  _ something _ , or at least not yet, and that it would have been better for the both of them if he would have refrained from making a big deal out of a kiss that could have as well meant nothing.

Before Geonhak could slip any further in his sadness, though, he felt a pull at his back and, as soon as he turned around, San got on his tiptoes and kissed him right away, without saying anything, without an excuse, without a reason, just because he wanted to, with the moving, innocent spontaneity with which San seemed to do anything, moved by an inner freedom that led him only where he truly wanted to be.

More specifically, in Geonhak’s arms, cupping his face in his small hands and pulling him lower, to be more comfortable while he kept on filling his lips with gentle, soft pecks and lightly giggling in between.

The more Geonhak spent time with San, the more he surrendered to the inexplicable mystery of the intrinsic lightness, of the ever-present joyfulness that seemed to animate every single action of his, and of how could someone miraculously balance his lights and his shadows without ever stumbling, without hesitating.

San, if anything, appeared to him like an aerialist, whose complete lack of fear towards the adversities of the world and towards his own darknesses allowed him to manifest himself as if he were continuously executing spectacular stunts on the tightrope of his surprisingly multifaceted self.

Starstruck and dizzied by San’s kisses, Geonhak couldn’t even say hi, that San had already slipped from his arms and went to thank both Dongju and Jongho for their hard work on set.

“Are you happy about how it’s all coming together?” Jongho asked, flattered and surprised by San’s kindness.

To be fair, generally models were never that friendly. Most of them barely made an effort to pretend to have any actual interest about the set and the clothes or accessories they were supposed to wear, almost as if they were too good to be there, and only saw the staff of a set as a group of nameless nothingnesses at their service.

But San was different and his experience as a dancer, all those years spent paying his dues, had shaped him into an incredibly gentle and polite person who took his time to thank every single individual assisting him, from the hotel’s staff to Jongho, Dongju, Youngjo, Geonhak, his PRs,  _ everyone _ . No one was forgotten by him when it came to say hi, asking how they were, if they had rested and eaten well, thanking them for all what they had done.

But after all, neither Geonhak was the usual photography director.

Thorough, careful, gentle, always grateful and mindful of everyone’s needs, Geonhak was unparalleled when it came to seconding the necessities of his whole entourage, giving his wholehearted attention to every request and making sure that the working environment felt safe and welcoming to everyone, not to mention how he always did his best to anticipate the needs that could arise on set with his eye for details and vocation to perfection.

In so many years of doing that job, Geonhak had realized very soon how he liked to work, and did his best to achieve that specific energetic, positive and comfortable atmosphere, firmly believing that happy people performed significantly better than frustrated ones.

Moreover, he was famous, in the industry, for being the only photography director that didn’t drive his coworkers insane and who never complained about anyone or anything, no matter how many issues he had with them.

That was because, as he liked to say, if he had spent his time saying that his coworkers were assholes, or incompetents, or imbeciles, that would have consequently made out of him the director of the assholes, of the incompetents, of the imbeciles.

His behavioral policy of care and positivity, instead, had made of him one of the most requested and beloved directors, as he always flaunted how incredibly skilled his entourage was, how well-organised they were and what a great team they made, never missing a chance to praise everyone’s work or to highlight how he worked with the best prossionists only. He had always been a natural born leader, the kind who was acknowledged for such a role by the esteem of others and not because he needed to remark that.

“We’re all doing our best for you, Sanie!” Dongju chimed along “If you are looking for someone to thank, though, then you should look at Geonhak. We have only done the manual work, but he’s the one who has come up with such a breathtaking concept to frame your, just as breathtaking, beauty.”

“Dongju, if you’re trying to get a raise, then you should talk to your manager at your agency, you know that I’m not the one paying you.” Geonhak remarked, sassily, laughing with a hint of embarrassment at the unexpected compliment.

“Oh well, you’ll have to admit that was smooth…” 

“Almost as your flirting skill, Dongju… And everyone here remembers your flirting skills fairly well, don’t we?” Geonhak asked in Jongho’s direction, winking at the blushing boy who instantly buried his face in his own hands, while Dongju rolled his eyes so hard he almost saw his brain.

“You will not dig up that story  _ again _ …” He whined, trying to seem annoyed, but actually sounding more ashamed than anything else “You know what? Go ahead, I don’t care. I’m sure San will find my flirting skills extremely romantic and will not fail to appreciate them, unlike the two of you.” 

“Why, what happened?” San asked, while Dongju dragged him by the arm to sit down to apply his makeup in the meantime.

“Nothing, Geonhak just likes to make a big fuss out of nothing.” The makeup artist sighed, pretending to be busy rummaging through his products.

“You must know, San, that Dongju and Jongho met at one of the first parties held by Youngjo as Vogue’s director and, well, Dongju was not at his brightest that night, since he had had quite a few drinks…” Geonhak began to tell the story, while Dongju, once more, rolled his eyes, making San giggle “...So that, when he saw Jongho, who back then was working as a waiter at the venue that Youngjo had chosen, he tried to convince him to dance with him with any possible strategy. What he didn’t know is that our Jongho, here, is quite shy and definitely not a fan of public displays of affection. But what our Jongho didn’t know, and in that case ignorance was everything but bliss, is that Dongju is quite a feisty one. So, when Jongho came to our table to get our orders for dessert, he asked Dongju what he would have wanted…” While Geonhak had to take a break to laugh wholeheartedly, Dongju threw him a brush, which hit him on the back of his head, and Jongho was an inch close to burying himself in the sand “...And Dongju answered him, with no shame whatsoever: since you won’t fit on a dessert dish, how about your number so that I can eat you afterwards?”

“I have to admit that I was not at my smartest, I’ll give you that.” Dongju retaliated, while San struggled not to fall from his chair as he nearly died laughing.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Jongho shortly commented, still hiding his face away and pretending to be busy, as he checked the softboxes for the seventeenth time “Nearly cost me my job...” 

“San, stop laughing! Your eyes are watering, how am I supposed to work on you?” Dongju complained, he himself concealing his own giggles in a reprimanding tone, carried away by San’s contagious laughter.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” San whined, fighting against his instinct and drying his eyes with a paper napkin “Well, one can’t say you go for subtlety, uh?”

“Subtlety is overrated, if you ask me.” The makeup artist answered, with a wink. “Or at least, subtlety wouldn’t have brought us together, considering Jongho is not nearly capable of getting some hints…”

“Hey! I’m perfectly capable of getting hints! They just need to be clear!” Jongho tried to punctualize, but ended up giving in to the general laughters.

“One surely couldn’t have been clearer than that!” Geonhak retaliated, giving Jongho a nudge followed by a knowing smile.

“....In fact, I got that.” Jongho stated, before leaning in and pulling Dongju into a back hug.

After that shirt moment of humor, though, everyone got back to work as usual, since that part of the shooting was definitely going to be the most challenging one: they only had a very tight time frame and, even though San had proven to be great at working in a tight schedule, they needed to be sure to have every picture with the exact light. Of all the elements going on on the set, the sun was the only one Geonhak had no control over whatsoever, therefore they all had to revolve around the sunset with clockwork precision and synchronization. 

Geonhak wished he would have been capable of better hiding his concern, but it was clear as day that a lot was going on through his mind. Every now and then, he casually peaked towards the makeup station, to check the progress in Dongju’s work, anxiously anticipating for him to be done, and he was so obvious that, at a certain point, Jongho had to call him.

“Listen, hyung, I know how much you care about this shooting _ and _ about the guy, but you need to fucking chill. You’re not helping anyone by sitting on Dongju’s shoulder like a vulture. Go grab a cocktail and saltines, smoke a cigar if you really need it, pester Youngjo-hyung’s messages, just… Get off of Dongju if you don’t want him to maim you with a lash curler, and we both know that he could.” Jongho said, taking Geonhak by the arm and gently leading him away from them. 

“Ok, ok, I’ll go grab something to drink for us all, so that we can start off with the right mood.” Geonhak asked, feeling caught in full swing and trying to make up for it right away.

When he came back, he happily noticed how Dongju had almost finished his work.

Geonhak placed down a tray with four flute glasses and a bottle of sparkling wine on a table and served everyone, then, as soon as they finished dressing and accessorizing San with amethyst and white gold jewels, they were good to go.

To Geonhak, it was clear right away that San was offering him a completely different side of himself, from the one he had pulled off that morning.

He seemed more emotional. 

More intense. 

His eyes were vibrating with some kind of deep, melancholic, nostalgic feeling, his gestures seemed more delicate and hesitant, and instead of the stances animated by those majestic bursts of power, he was now going for poses where all of his frailty, all of his softness could come through, as he coiled, holding himself in, with a look that demanded to embrace all of his overwhelming and moving vulnerability, to kiss the pain away from his wounded soul, to either vow to him eternal devotion or leave.

In the scorching sunset light, kissed by the red glow of the bonfire and shining for the Gods, San appeared like a mythological creature whose appearance could only be witnessed by the pure of heart. The more severe shadows of the incoming night carved new angles around his features, while his ever glowing eyes, so clear and radiant, gave the perfect illusion of him being the true, living constellation staring at his lost place in the night sky.

While he was taking the last close ups, Geonhak felt such an unspeakable connection to the profound sense of sadness and rootlessness conveyed by San’s gaze that he had to take a short break to look away and dry his tears.

He knew that feeling way too well.

That sense of displacement.

That kind of abandonment.

That insatiable loneliness.

That visceral need to find his place in the world, to find his home, not in its mere physical or geographical definition, but in someone’s arms, in someone’s life, in someone’s heart.

He saw in San a mirror of his own lonesome journey, of his own feeling of wilderness, of his own emotional turmoil that could not be sedated by any material asset, for it could have only found appeasement in the moment he would have met that one, perfectly matching soul which would have put an end to all that suffering with its presence only.

Suddenly, all of those nights he had spent on his own, watching his colleagues slowly falling in love and going home to their significant others, while he spent them burying himself up with more work than he could take, almost felt like they were worth it.

All of the sadness he had endured, all of the yearning, all of the wait, was worthwhile when Geonhak looked at San and saw the matching scars on their souls, the same terror of getting close and the same despise for the loneliness it implied, the same dream of a perfect love, the same longing for completion, the same desire to give all of himself as fiercely and fearlessly as possible.

_ I found you _ , Geonhak thought,  _ at long last, here you are _ .

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


After they finished, Dongju and Jongho remained on the beach to roast their well earned marshmallows on the bonfire, while San left for his room to have a shower.

Without even hoping for anything to happen (or, at least, without really wanting to admit it to himself), Geonhak went back to his room as well and then began to carefully store all of his equipment as meticulously as he could, checking that every single piece, every wire, every plug was in its perfect place, so that he could have showered, eaten and then gone to sleep right afterwards without worrying about packing.

When he was about to call for the room service, though, he heard a timid knock on his door.

“Can I take you to dinner?” 

There, on the doorway, as handsome as ever, dressed up in a perfectly starched white shirt and night blue pair of slacks, stood San, holding a red rose in his hand and offering him his absolutely brightest smile ever.

“Sure,” Geonhak said, still wrapped up in his bathrobe “But you’ll have to wait a second for me to get dressed up, though.”

“It’s ok, I don’t mind. Can I come in?” San apparently asked, except he didn’t wait for an answer to slide inside the room and lay down on Geonhak’s bed. “Gosh, I could fall asleep right now…” He mumbled, while Geonhak rushed into the bathroom with a random pair of black jeans, light blue shirt and a checkered blue and black blazer.

“I was about to call the room service, it’s still an option if you don’t feel like going out.” He said out loud, trying to put on his clothes as fast as possible, his sense of embarrassment growing with every second he kept San waiting.

“No way, I said I’d take you out to dinner and that’s exactly what I will do.” San retaliated, in a whiny voice, while he curled up on himself and yawned, still holding the rose in his hands.

“What about we have dinner on the room’s balcony, then? Technically, it is out.” Geonhak stated.

But he didn’t get an answer. Instead, he found San soundly asleep on his bed, his breath so light it almost sounded like a soft kitten’s purring, and Geonhak felt his heart crumble with fondness at that sight. Ever so softly, he plucked the rose out of his small hands and stared at it for a few seconds, with an unfadable smile on his face.

“ _ I like roses on a first date. They tell you the guy is a keeper. _ ”, he remembered him saying, as his heart clenched under the overwhelming grip of emotion.

He twirled the rose a couple times between his fingers, leaning in to smell it before putting it into a tall, crystal vase on the black wrought iron table on his balcony.

Standing there, in the evening breeze, Geonhak caught himself smiling on his own, with no apparent reason besides the fact of being in the same ambient as San and to be able to witness the delightful sight of him sleeping on his bed.

Maybe his heart had been so lonely for such long that the first hint of romance made it flutter too fast and too intensely.

Maybe his feelings were growing out of proportion, beyond what he would have wished for or even been fully aware of.

Maybe he should have drawn a line between what he actually knew about himself and San and what he dreamed for them to become, what he already visualized them doing together, what he longed for them to achieve together.

But then again, Geonhak couldn’t tell if these doubts were being brought up to his conscience by his rational or his shadow self and, furthermore, he ultimately decided that for once, only for that once, he could have allowed himself to have something good without overthinking it, without being overwhelmed by his pessimistic tendencies, without having to force himself into a form of self constraint until he would have regretted everything he hadn’t said or done out of pure fear of risking it all, of going that extra mile, of taking a chance towards the unknown and, possibly, happiness.

After all the heartache and the unrequitedness, Geonhak thought, he deserved to allow good things to happen to him, no matter how scary they were or how unsure they made him feel.

It was just the beginning, and beginnings are, by definition, unsure.

He knew it could have taken even a very long time for two people to find their balance, but for that once he was willing to try, he was willing to take San’s hand and to let him lead the dances, he was willing to close his eyes and take that leap of faith, to abandon the safety of his comfort zone, made of distance and seclusion, to discover just how happy he could have been if only he had allowed himself.

After all, San had come to his room with a rose.

And roses are for keepers.

Roses are for real.

After more than one hour, during which Geonhak called the room service to order some galchi jorim, hanchi mulhwae, haemul ddukbaegi, jeonbokjuk and Jeju momguk, he went to wake up San with a soft kiss on the forehead and caressing his soft hair.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, are you hungry?” Geonhak asked, under his breath, as lightly as his voice allowed him to whisper, trying his best to make him wake up in the softest way possible.

“Hmn…” San mewled, smiling with his adorable dimples in full display for Geonhak to kiss “I smell something delicious…”

“Delicious and hot…” Geonhak pointed out, kissing San’s nose and dipping in his neck to sprinkle it with more playful pecks.

“Are we talking about you or about dinner?” San asked, raising a brow and playing with Geonhak's tie, using its tip to tickle him under the chin and making him giggle, delighted.

"Maybe both." Geonhak answered, winking at him with a confidence he definitely didn't have.

"Oooh, then I guess I'll have to take a bite of either." San retaliated , pushing him down on the bed, next to him, and leaning in to press a loud raspberry on the crook of his neck. 

The both of them stood up from the bed, after a few more minutes of cuddling and tickling and playing with each other, and went outside, on the balcony overlooking the sea. Even though it was too dark to contemplate the landscape, the sound of the waves and the soft breeze made the perfect setting for their romantic dinner, which went on lightheartedly and happily, with the two of them casually talking about their lives, their working experiences, the places they had visited, their childhood memories, and so on and so forth.

Something about that whole conversation, about them being together, reuniting for dinner after a long day at work and just comfortably sharing their anecdotes and stories, felt incredibly domestic. Comforting. Easy.

The way they fed each other bites of food, the care with which Geonhak made sure San’s glass was always full and with which San left the last bite of any dish to Geonhak, the tenderness with which they would hold hands, or lean in for a kiss every now and then, or cutely wipe away food residues from each other’s mouth after a particularly large bite had that peculiar taste of intimacy, of familiarity, that would be usually found in longtime couples and that, somehow, seemed to come just natural to them.

They didn’t need to adjust.

They’d just fit perfectly with each other.

“So,” San began to speak after dinner, curled up in a ball on the iron chair “Now what?”

“Now what  _ what _ ?” retaliated Geonhak, lifting his eyebrows as he took a sip of white wine.

“No what do we do? What are we? Where do we go from here?” The model articulated, shifting to sit more appropriately and pushing the chair closer to the table, assuming a more attentive stance after he dropped the bomb just as casually as how he would have asked Geonhak how he had been. The other man sighed, putting down the glass wine and staring at it for a few seconds, trying to collect his thoughts before he raised his gaze to look at San directly. He didn’t want to face his inquisitive eyes without an answer. But, at the same time, he didn’t even have the time to thoroughly come up with one. All Geonhak had was a lot of feelings and absolutely no plan on what to do with those, and for embarrassing that it was, he concluded that honesty would have been the best policy.

“How do I even begin… All these questions… Don’t think I haven’t been asking them myself as well. And I know we need to address whatever is going on between us, but maybe, before finding an answer, what we should do is be open about what we’re feeling, just to, you know, make sure we’re on the same page. I’m not a great talker, San, so please, even if what I will say might not reflect your feelings, try to listen to me first and then let me know your thoughts. What I think I should say first is that I like you, San. I like you a lot. I like being with you, I like talking to you, I like listening to you, I even like just looking at you. You’re the type of person with whom I know I would be comfortable even staying in perfect silence, because I can hear your soul continuously speaking to me, and all I wish to do is listen. The moment I laid my eyes on you, you stirred up something deep within me, and ever since that encounter I knew I could have never gone back to who I was, to my life as I knew it, to the reality I was living. As soon as I saw you, you have set fire to my heart and subverted everything I thought I wanted, everything I had convinced myself I needed, everything I believed I had become, bringing me back from the limbo where I had forced myself to remain, putting safety and habit in front of everything else and preventing myself from feeling any kind of emotion. During the years, I had learnt to believe that the path I had chosen would have been the best choice for my life, but then you appeared and I found myself rediscussing all of my decisions. You make me feel things I thought I wouldn’t have been capable of feeling anymore. You make me enthusiastic and eager, ecstatic and thrilled, happy and vibrant. Whenever we are together, I only need to look you in the eyes to be filled with such an overwhelming sense of joy, of aliveness, of gratefulness, that it’s almost painful to feel, because I can’t help reminding myself of how dull my existence was before I met you. You are a bolt in the blue, a double rainbow after a storm, a ray of sun waking me up from a nightmare, you shake me and comfort me, you pierce my defences and build me up from ruins, you fight my shadows to show me that there is still light. You make my scars worth being worn. You make my past make sense. You make my future feel hopeful. You make my life meaningful. This is where I am: deep down in a spiral and falling for you more and more. If you are not on the same page, I completely understand. I’m not telling you all of this because I’m trying to rush things, I’m telling you all of this because I need you to know what you mean to me before we come up with a decision as for what we want to do with this relationship and where we want it to lead us.”

Geonhak didn’t have the strength to look up, after everything he had said, and San’s silence was enough for him to regret every word that had left his lips, realizing that he had probably overshared. Once again, Geonhak found himself wishing he knew how to refrain from wearing his heart on his sleeve and being so obvious about it. Sooner than he knew and before he could intervene, a warm tear slipped from his lashes and crushed on the back of his hand, just a second before San reached out his palms to hold it in his hands, delicately brushing his thumbs on Geonhak’s smooth skin.

“Geonhak…” San whispered, standing up from his chair and moving to sit on his lap, where Geonhak wrapped his arms around him and San cupped his face in his small hands, lifting it up to look him in the eyes.

San almost melted down crying as well when he saw Geonhak’s expression. All of that melancholy, all of that sadness, all of that loneliness were things he was so familiar with and knew so well that spotting them on someone else’s face was far more than he could take, in that moment.

“I don’t even know where to begin. I’m still trying to process what you have said, so if my response is not the one you were expecting it’s because you left me speechless, and it’s so much for me to actually take in. Though you might not believe me, acknowledging that I am so precious for someone is just… Wild to me. You may not believe me, but I am not used to feeling special. Actually, most of the time, in my life, it’s been quite the contrary. I may look like someone who is very loved, but that’s not exactly true. I am respected. I am admired. But ever since I was a child, being around others was hard for me. I was different from all the other children and never felt like I belonged. I was shy, I didn’t have many subjects to talk about with my classmates, since I have always been in love with classic music and ballet, and as you can imagine it wasn’t that great of a conversation ground. Growing up and finally managing to enter a prestigious dance school, I learnt the hard way how ruthlessly competitive the ballet environment could be. Seeing people being so harsh with me, picking on my flaws, on my timid character, on my looks, on my freckles, on my skills. Feeling unfit in the world never was a big issue, to me. But feeling unfit for the one and only passion I had, for the career of my dreams, for the only option I had ever truly taken into consideration for my future was devastating. Most of the days, the physical pain ended up being just a tickle in comparison to the psychological one. And facing all of this on my own, with no one to talk to except for my parents, felt like a nightmare. I saw all of my classmates bonding and all of the other children in my dance classes growing closer to each other, while I only got lonelier and sadder. In these circumstances, the first person to see something valuable in me, Sunmi, my new teacher, came into my life, grabbed me by the hand and taught me not only how to dance, but how to live as well. When the others would mock me, she would tell me  _ No matter what _ ,  _ the show must go on. Even if they’re mean, even if they make you sad, even if you’re not feeling well, the show must go on.  _ And that’s what I did. I learnt the meaning of discipline, of commitment, of hard work, of perfectionism, of excellence. Though she wasn’t the coddly kind of teacher, she was fair and motivating. Sunmi believed in my dreams more than I dared doing myself and led me to achieve my goals. No dream was too big. Every time I had doubts, she had solutions. Every time I wished for something, she had a strategy. Sunmi believed in me, and taught me to do the same by overcoming my limits with humility and commitment. I was nothing but a dreamer. Sunmi made me an achiever. But being an achiever, as you can imagine, only came at the price of more isolation and of constant sacrifices. You might laugh at me for this, but I have never been in a serious relationship. Not like I didn’t want to or like I didn’t try, but there were always so many obstacles and hardships that, after a while, I gave up. I thought I just was not cut out for romance, and yet I craved it so much, yet every time i would get myself involved with someone, they would either criticize me for being too absent, for being too career-oriented, for basically not matching whatever idea of me they had in their mind. The truth is, I tended to throw myself, heart and soul, at everyone who showed me the slightest glint of attention, because I didn’t know any better and I just wanted these persons to be the right ones so much that i failed to see the truth, to see them for who they were and to objectively evaluate who I was involving myself with. Eventually, I ended up so broken and traumatised that I turned back to the only condition I knew: isolation. Away from the world, away from the people, locked up in my ivory tower, I couldn’t end up being hurt anymore. With only myself as a company, I felt safe. Work luckily never lacked, and when the chance of a modeling career presented itself, alongside with my ballet one, I had enough engagements to keep my mind away from my private life and to strain myself just the right amount to not want to go out and meet people anymore. Sounds like a perfect plan, right? This way I wouldn’t have had to deal with my insecurities, with my trust issues, with the urge to work on myself. And then you arrived, just like in the best fairy tales, a knight in a shining armor ready to fight all of my demons, but also such a strong and powerful teacher, challenging me to finally address my weaknesses with so much grace and such a reassuring aura that I couldn’t help but follow your lead. You made me feel safe and comforted during all of my critical moments. Whenever I crumbled, you came to pull me back together and to reassure me that everything would have been fine. And I believed you. I believed you because you believed in me. You came into my life with such a discreet, respectful, empowering presence and made me fall in love with myself by looking through your eyes. During this spawn of time spent with you, I saw you, and loved every detail you so graciously allowed me to know about you, your life, your personality. You let me in and embraced me wholly that it has come natural, to me, to turn to you and to nestle in the warmth of your soul. And I wish to remain there for quite a long time, if you believe this could be possible.”

By the time San had spoken his heart out, the moon was high in the sky and him and Geonhak were wrapped in a hug so warm and soothing none of them wanted to part from.

San sat huddled against Geonhak’s chest, listening to his soothing heartbeat and cradled by the way his hands never stopped brushing his hair and caressing his cheeks. There was a quiet, after they had spoken, that reminded the one after a battle, when soldiers are finally allowed to take off their weapons and armor and be vulnerable, for there is nothing left to fear anymore, only peace and homecoming ahead of them. 

Likewise, the both of them indulged in the comfort of just remaining in perfect silence and mindlessly cuddling one another after all the tension and the emotional load the both of them had released. Speaking up about feelings, honestly and respectfully, is never an easy experience, even more so when that many factors come into play. Coming clean about their feelings was draining, painful, intricate and profoundly grueling, so that kind of intimate silence, punctuated only by the muffled sound of their occasional kisses, shone around them like a moonlight halo, allowing San and Geonhak to rest their worn out souls and bask in a much needed, entirely new sense of tranquillity.

“Look! A comet!” San exclaimed, his arm jolting towards the sky as he pulled Geonhak’s shirt, pointing out at the shooting star for him to see, but oddly enough he straight up ignored him and kept on staring at his face with an adoring smile. “Geonhak! Look!”

“But I am looking” Geonhak answered after kissing San on the forehead, his hand lovingly nestling his cheek and eyes filled with fondness.

“Sap!” San retaliated, laughing and blushing at the same time, as he hid his face against Geonhak’s chest.

“Oh really, am I a sap? And what are you going to do about it?” He said, pulling San in a hug and getting closer to San’s face with a smug smile on his lips.

“Hm, let me see… I will fight you. With kisses.  _ Relentlessly _ .” The model answered, giggling and peppering Geonhak’s cheeks with loud, wet kisses, that turned into slower, more sensual, passionate ones as soon as their lips met, manifesting a shift in the joyful mood towards a consistently sultrier vibe. 

“So, what do you want to do?” San asked in a whisper, his eyes still closed as he kept on nibbling Geonhak’s lips “Stargaze a little more?”

“Sure.” 

“Very well, sir…” San said, his voice loaded with a kind of sensuality that Geonhak had only ever caught a glimpse of here and there, but never witnessed in action “...Then, you should keep your eyes on the  _ etoile _ .” He added, as he elegantly slipped off of his lap, making sure that he would elegantly slide on Geonhak’s crotch with the profile of his thigh as he twirled on himself and then stood up to face him. 

Then, San brought his hands all the way up to the first button of his shirt and, with excruciatingly slow movements that had Geonhak completely hypnotized and subdued to his charm, the young man began to undress for him, mindful of every gesture, taking his time between one button of the shirt and the other to stare at the other man’s reaction, feeling himself as he could see him struggling more and more to keep his composure and confine himself to just helplessly watch San reveal inch after inch of his golden skin.

The crave to touch was contrasted by a powerful force that just glued him to the chair, incapable to keep his eyes off of him, mind completely blank, succumbing to flares of heat lashing out to all of his body, while his heart kept pumping blood faster and faster, so powerfully he could hear it thundering in his ears and hammering his temples at every beat.

When he was done with unbuttoning his shirt, San began to play with it, pulling it open and showing his body through the loosened waving fabric, fidgeting with the collar, caressing his chest underneath, running his hands all the way down to the waist of his trousers, before unbuckling his belt and moving teasingly under his barely still worn shirt, so that it would sling over his shoulders and, eventually, slide off of him, falling at his feet.

Then, he took a few steps towards an absolutely stunned, blushing Geonhak and started to loosen his tie, while biting his lips and looking at him with lustful eyes.

“Like what you see?” San said, while he sinuously got on Geonhak’s lap, straddling him as he made himself comfortable on top of him with very much purposeful hip waves.

“I couldn write an essay on just how much I do.” Geonhak answered, surging forward to playfully bite San’s lower lip and indulging in small, soft pangs, meant for nothing else but to induce him to get closer and lower “And am I, by any chance, allowed to touch?”

“You are forbidden not to.” San whispered, emphasizing the concept by rocking his hips forward to glide on Geonhak’s body with all of himself, before wrapping his arms around his lover’s neck.

“Very good…” He whispered, wrapping his strong arms under San’s thighs and standing up from the chair, to carry him inside and lay him on his bed.

There was a long pause, after Geonhak laid San down on his fluffy bed, where he just stood there, in the middle of his wide spread legs, and took a deep breath, contemplating his beauty. Even though San’s body was definitely on the more petite side, it was perfectly toned, muscular, proportioned, graceful. In the dim light of the room, San appeared as a prodigy of unreal perfection. All of his perfectly chiseled muscles surfaced from the darkness to be kissed by the soft moonlight and Geonhak’s mouth, as he got on top of him and bent down to worship every inch of his body with the utmost care. His hands ran all over San, caressing his skin and studying every curve, every hollow, every line, as if he was using those gentle touches to impress the shape of his body in his memory with endless devotion. When Geonhak’s fingertips reached San’s ribs, he felt him wince at the touch and stopped immediately.

“Is anything the matter?” Geonhak asked, worried, lifting himself up on his palms and looking for San’s eyes in the darkness, finding them veiled with clear tears.

“No, I… I think I got a couple scratches there, after shooting on the rocks, and it kind of hurts a little.” San answered with a hinted smile, trying to dismiss Geonhak’s worries.

“Do you know what my grandma taught me, when I was a kid?” He answered, pinning himself on his elbow and leaning his head on his palm, while his other hand indulged tracing swirls on San’s abdomen “A kiss on the owie makes everything pass right away.” Geonhak said, as he carefully sprinkled all the area of San’s ribs with soft, slow, careful kisses, making San sigh and giggle after every single peck.

“I think I have something else hurting, you know?” San mewled, teasingly, as he rocked his hips against Geonhak’s body “May I have some kisses there as well, please?”

“Of course you may…” Geonhak answered, sliding his palm slowly along San’s abdomen, until it met the shape of his shaft surfacing under the smooth fabric of his slacks and instinctively cupped itself around it. Geonhak had to bite his lips as soon as he felt it wincing and slightly throbbing under the warmth of his hand, a jolt of electricity running through his spine, delighted. 

He fidgeted a little with the button of San’s trousers, trying to conceal a slight tremble of his hand that clearly gave away how out of practice he was.

“Nervous?” San asked, sweetly, understanding that something going on in Geonhak’s mind was currently giving him a hard time.

“No, it’s just that… How do I put this… It’s been a while.” He answered, thankful for the darkness embracing them, so that San would not have seen him blush like a school kid.

“Look at me.” San sternly said, wrapping his hand behind Geonhak’s nape and pulling him closer with a delicate movement that yet let him no escape from his piercing gaze “Look at me, Geonhak. It’s just us. You, me, and that’s all that matters. And if you don’t feel like it, we can just hug all night. I don’t mind waiting.” He added, surging forward to kiss him through a smile “I’ve waited for you all my life. A little more won’t harm.”

“What if… What if I don’t want to wait? What if I am just… Nervous?” Geonhak whispered, his words vanishing in the air just like his worries, melted away by San’s slow, gentle caresses.

“Then you should let me take the lead.” He said, mindlessly unfastening Geonhak’s tie and unbuttoning his shirt, gradually, taking small breaks between one button and the following, to surge forward and place soft pecks on his forehead. “Just lay down and let me take care of you. How does it sound?”

“Too good to be true.” Geonhak answered as he allowed San to take off his shirt, before laying down. A shiver, again, ran down his spine as soon as he felt San’s hands delicately traveling across his chest and divesting him with barely perceivable touches of his fingertips.

He closed his eyes and sucked a moan in his mouth when he felt San pushing him down by slightly pressing his palms on his shoulders.

“Close your eyes,” San ordered in a breath as he got on top of him “From now on all you will have to do is relax and let me spoil you.” 

Then, San leaned down to kiss him and, as he did, he placed the tie on Geonhak’s eyes, blindfolding him. After having deprived him of sight, San took his time to indulge the beautiful body of the man underneath him, starting off with delicate touches and light kisses on his chest and shoulder area. Every single contact made Geonhak wince under San, as he noticed how being blindfolded both turned him on and amplified all of his other sensory perceptions. He found himself longing for every caress, for every kiss, for every bite, for every lick with which his lover would play with him, getting high off of his reactions, while he grew more and more eager. But San had definitely just begun. With time, as he felt Geonhak’s body loosening up and his muscles release their tension under his hands massaging him, with an increasing need to touch him more, harder, tighter, San laid down on him, sinking his mouth in the soft skin of Geonhak’s neck and nibbling on it, before digging in his teeth and marking him with beautiful, countless, red halos, painting the one that looked like a cascade of rose petals on Geonhak’s skin, from his neck and all the way down to his collarbones, his shoulders and his broad chest. Geonhak was so incredibly beautiful and pliable, he almost looked like he was born to be worshipped, and San meant to commit to the task, leaving no part of him uncared for and letting his moans lead him to the things he was most responsive to. 

“How does it feel?” San asked, squeezing his pecs with his tiny hands and running his tongue in the small of his chest, back and forth “Do you like it?”

All he got as an answer, though, was a loud moan, as Geonhak pushed his head backwards and dug his fingers in the duvet, a gesture which didn’t get ignored by San, who firmly grabbed his wrists and held his hands together in front of his mouth to then, excruciatingly slow, suck all of Geonhak’s fingers, one at a time, mewling with pleasure of having his mouth filled with his long, large fingers, while straddling him teasingly to ease the need for contact on his groin. 

“How does my mouth feel?” San insisted asking, sluggishly, bringing Geonhak’s hands on his chest and allowing him to touch all he wanted, before he pushed them to wrap around his hips, making him understand that he wanted to be held tight and humped harder.

“It feels… It feels amazing…  _ Everything  _ about you feels amazing…” Geonhak managed to say, searching for the words in his mind, overwhelmed by pleasure, with quite a great deal of struggle.

“And how would you know? You haven’t felt  _ everything _ …” San stressed, as he rocked his hips on Geonhak’s crotch, the friction increased by his lover’s hands pushing him even closer to glide on his shaft and accompanied by a sweet chorus of needy moans.

“Well then,” Geonhak whispered, pushing San down to lay on top of him and bringing his lips close to the man’s ear “We need to make amends for that.” And for the first time, it was him the one who kept San firmly still while he pushed his hips up to rub their shafts together, eager for that kind of touch. Maybe for more.  _ Definitely _ for more, if only he knew how to voice it… But then again, San came to his aid and, while still having him blindfolded, he reached for his trousers and undressed Geonhak and himself, understanding that Geonhak’s fears were long gone and that his body was demanding further attention.

“You’re so handsome, Geonhak, you’re such a masterpiece.” He whispered, in the most sensual tone the man had ever heard in his entire life, making him twitch and drip at every stroke of his tongue.

“Please, San, slow down or I…” Geonhak pleaded, desperate for more yet terrified at the thought of finding release way too early than he’d have wished to.

But San was determined to leave no room for anxiety, and his soft, smooth hands kept on stroking his length, only making his pace faster, then slower, then again faster, in the sweetest form of torture men could’ve ever come up with in all of human history.

“If you only knew how much I’ve wanted this, how much I’ve wanted you… My gorgeous…”

These are the last words Geonhak heard him pronounce, before his warm lips gently disclosed around the pink, wet tip of his hard shaft, sucking on it in a sinful, gluttonous way, relishing in the taste of the crystal clear liquid glazing it, while letting out satisfied moans and sexy giggles, pleased by the adorable reaction he was getting from Geonhak: his body trembled every time his mouth’s grip got tighter around him and he couldn’t keep in his moans and muffled groans anymore, thrusting his hips upwards instinctively, wanting more and more.

Geonhak grabbed the duvet with his hands, painfully aroused, scrunching his nose and letting out a choked growl as soon as he felt the wet warmth of San’s mouth enveloping all of his length and taking him in whole, with choked sounds that only managed to turn him on even more. His lips parted in a gasp when San began to swirl his tongue around his girth and to tickle his frenulum, overstimulating him to the point that it was almost painful for Geonhak to keep trying to delay his climax. Nonetheless, his throbbing veins pressing on San’s lips spoke louder than any words he could have used, and only made San go down deeper on him, determined to make him come in his mouth and to please him in ways he probably had never experienced yet.

“Suck on these, love. Suck on my fingers. Take them all in, soak them, bite them.” He whispered, shoving two of his fingers inside of Geonhak’s mouth, who submissively complied with his wishes, completely surrendering to pleasure.

San raised his gaze and looked at his beautiful lover trembling under the growing jolts of pleasure, taking his time to sloppily suck on him and drooling all over him, before he pulled his soaking wet fingers out of Geonhak’s mouth and began to gently draw circles around his rim, patiently making sure he was more than ready and distended before he would slide in one of his fingers, slowly, calmly, slipping another one in only after he had spent enough time stretching him and letting him get accustomed to it. Then, with both his pointer and middle finger inside and Geonhak’s member still in his mouth, San worked his way to gently hit his sweet spot once. 

“Fuck…” Geonhak slurred, biting his mouth, his body curved in an instinctive movement as he tried to extend his limbs as much as he could, pervaded by pleasure “Fuck, this feels so good…” He moaned, once more.

He was ready, and San knew. He could feel it in the way his muscles welcomed his fingers inside of him. He could feel it in the way his shaft twitched so uncontrollably it hit his palate. Geonhak was ready, and so was he.

San slid out his fingers only to push them in once more, again and again, slower at first, with a growing pace, fingering him while he took all of Geonhak’s dick in his mouth and blowed him with such an eagerness and a passion that it would have only been a matter of a few minutes before Geonhak’s eyesight would have gone blank under the blindfold and he clenched his jaw, biting on his own knuckles to help himself from screaming, while San kept on going down on him and finger fucking him.

After he had orgasmed, San promptly swallowed all of his come and cleaned him off with his tongue, only raising his head from his groin at the very last and proceeding to gently caress his still twitching shaft, but without pulling his fingers out, just slowing down his pace.

“Was it good?” He asked, seeming almost timid in his meek tone, completely contrasting with the incredible sexual drive he had just displayed and making Geonhak laugh.

“Was it good, you ask…” Geonhak remarked, lifting himself up to wrap his arms around San and press a series of soft smooches all over his neck and cheeks “Was it good? It was beyond good. It was perfect.  _ You _ are perfect.” He then said, in a softer tone, nuzzling their noses together and kissing him.

“I’m far from perfect, but I do strongly believe that you deserve the best of me.” San answered, with a glint of melancholy in his voice which he promptly brushed off before Geonhak could even question him about “Speaking of,” he added, pushing his fingers inside of him in a more insistent way than before, letting him know that he had only had a taste of his plans for the night “Didn’t you want to feel everything about me, earlier on? Shouldn’t we, wait… How did you word it? Ah, yes,  _ make amends for that _ ? Don’t tell me you’re already tired…”

“Ah, Never of you.” Geonhak tried to say, stuttering on his words, trying to keep at least the slightest composure and failing, overwhelmed by pleasure and overstimulation that didn’t allow him to focus on any other rational thoughts besides how he wanted him to feast on his body and straight up take him in any way he liked.

At every moan coming out of Geonhak’s mouth, San got more and more aroused, longing and thirsting for him. He took the most refined and perfect pleasure from the very thought of finally having the man, who had so helplessly charmed and intrigued him from the first time they met, at his mercy, so beautifully disheveled, docile, submissive, even better than any of those wet dreams he had about Geonhak, which had forced him into sleepless nights and devouring fantasies, where he was allowed to have him all for himself to tease and please.

Under San’s lustful eyes, Geonhak appeared even more beautiful, erotic, desirable than he could have ever imagined, with those swollen lips of his, that golden skin, that firm, muscular, broad body, made for him to worship and adore, body, and that voice, whose lewd, hoarse hummings and pleas felt like a choir of angels to San’s ears.

“Please…”, Geonhak whispered in an airy breath, “Please… Take me…”

San had to bite his lower lip to keep himself from acting accordingly to his instincts, forcefully yelling at him to do it, to just take him, to give him what he was asking for, but still, he felt like he should have kept at least a glint of his composure and gone for a slightly longer, yet definitely more appeasing, road.

Lightly grabbing Geonhak's knees, San spread his legs a little wider and, quietly, pulled his fingers out, giving him just a moment to feel the emptiness and needingly clench around thin air, before he would, at long last, slided inside of him, taking all the time in the world to feel Geonhak tighten around his shaft and open up for him with his initially hesitant, gentle thrusts, until he knew Geonhak was ready to have his dick completely inside of him. San, after all, was in no rush: his personal idea of lovemaking had never been a quickie in the toilets or stuff like that.

He was careful. He was meticulous. He was devoted.

He loved to put on a show for his lover and to explore his body, study his reactions, learning how to best take him, with mindful observation and a natural talent for pleasure giving.

Once he was completely inside of Geonhak, San took a pause to relish in his warmth and wetness before he could go on. It was one of those very simple pleasures he couldn’t live without. Feeling Geonhak’s muscles adjust around him, rhythmically clasping and relaxing, felt so good he almost came on the spot. 

“So tight…” San whispered, heaving out a soft moan, while his hands tightened their grip around Geonhak’s supple thighs, spreading them even wider to push his cock further inside of him “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

“Sannie… I’m begging… Don’t be.” Geonhak said, and his guttural, raspy voice sent San’s brain to his dom headspace in the blink of an eye.

The way Geonhak moaned made his erection twitch with eagerness.

He had to ruin him. 

He just  _ had to _ . 

“Oh, well, if you ask so prettily…” San retaliated, thrusting inside of him again, now harder, with a feral groan of satisfaction and fulfillment. 

“I’m not asking, I am imploring.” Geonhak mewled, wrapping his hands around San’s hips and pushing him deeper inside of him while adjusting the angle of his hips, so that he could penetrate him better and feel all of his shaft.

“Is this what you want?” He asked, slowly pulling out only to push back in, with a hard blow that left Geonhak gasping for air and sucking in his cheeks to prevent himself from screaming “Do you like it like this?” San asked, again, thrusting faster and stronger than before, while keeping him pinned down on the bed by pushing his hands on Geonhak’s shoulder, his nails digged deep in his toned, smooth skin, scratching him as he rammed him to moans and tears.

“Yes… Please… Yes… I love it like this…” Geonhak purred, lavishly, wrapping his legs around San’s waist and helplessly wincing under his ravishing thrusts.

Once again, San followed Geonhak’s wishes, both the ones he would voice and the ones he could guess just by the way he would angle his hips under him or how he would grab his own waist, just as proficiently, giving him all of himself. He pushed deeper, faster, and with more force, with more desire, with burning passion, breathing heavily against Geonhak’s skin, feeling his tongue all over his neck and his mouth and teeth sucking on his skin, painfully marking it, making him roar with a relish that turned him into his most untamable self, that self who had longed for his touch and for his body way more than he would have liked to admit.

The more desperately San wanted him, the fiercelier he took him, fucking him like he owned him, diven by the physical, untamable need to have him like that forever, to be able to call him his, to solve the mystery of that man and to allow him to solve his own, to give himself to him, body and soul, once and for all.

And maybe that was exactly what was happening right then, in the darkness of Geonhak’s room, only enlightened by the moonlight, in the midst of their breaths, of their skins brushing against each other, of their sweaty bodies getting tangled and bond together, of their moans, of their kisses, and, eventually, of their screams of pleasure that rose in the steamy air in an erotic duet, as they reached their climax altogether, eventually won over by the unstoppable, instinctual need they had to belong to each other, in a mist of sex and dire need to surrender to someone who wore the same scars as their own.

Eventually, San collapsed against Geonhak’s broad, warm chest, overcome with emotion and shivering after the indescribably intense orgasm, listening to the sound of Geonhak’s heartbeat: it was still a little rushed, but it was the most beautiful song he had ever heard in his life.

As their hands looked for each other and their fingers naturally intertwined, San realized that he had never felt happier and more complete than he did then, while laying, defenseless, in absolute silence, on top of Geonhak, while he gently combed his hair with his fingers and placed small kisses on his head.

San wished, for the first time after a long while, he could have stayed like that forever…

But that was not the time to get lost in negative emotions and heavy memories.

He shed a tear and, eventually, but at long last serenely, fell asleep, deciding that they would have had all the time in the world to talk about the worries that, like leaden shadows, were trying to take over his mind.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


For quite some months after the shooting, during which they had been peacefully going out on dates, weekend getaways, romantic dinners, museums, concerts and much more, Geonhak and San had become the epitome of the concept of soulmates.

Romance, passion, connection, mutual understanding, chemistry.

They had it all.

Ever since they had left Jeju, the couple of love birds had been pretty much indivisible. 

Every evening, after his rehearsals, San would go to Geonhak’s studio to pick him up, so that he wouldn’t stay there all night, overworking himself, and they would go out to eat a bite before they would go home. They would usually go to Geonhak’s place, which was definitely bigger and quieter than the flat that San shared with Hwanwoong (and, even if not officially, with Hwanwoong’s boyfriend, Mingi).

Geonhak lived in Hannam-dong, where he owned a loft way too big for his own needs and essentially furnished in an urban zen style. Every decorative element and piece of furniture had been carefully chosen by him and, as San discovered, had a very specific story. San loved to lay down with him on the sofa, after a long day at work, and listen to Geonhak telling him about how he got hold of that coffee table or of that painting on silk, how he took some burr walnut panes and turned them into bookshelves, how he obtained a whole collection of design vases, dishes and a tea set after he became friends with this avant-garde ceramist who made those specifically for him, and so on.

It seemed as if Geonhak didn’t let anything that had no meaning, history or emotional value inside of his house, and every time he would walk through the door, San felt as if he was being allowed into a sanctuary, where Geonhak would make him feel like the most precious of his treasures.

After all, Geonhak had spent so many years arranging his house following this image he had in mind of a place that would be an extension of his soul, that it only came natural to him to welcome San in and to make room for him to feel comfortable in there as well.

With time, San began to leave small everyday items at Geonhak’s place: a toothbrush, a cup, his pyjamas, his silk pillowcase.

Whenever Geonhak would walk around the house and run into the odd objects, he would smile fondly, even if just for a moment, at those sweet testimonies of San’s presence in his life.

He had never told San, but he was madly in love with him and all those objects finally made it feel like it was all real.

They gave a sense of tangibility to their relationship that Geonhak found extremely soothing and reassuring, so that even when San was not there, it was like having him close.

Coincidently with the launch of Kim Hongjoong’s jewelry line and the publication of the special editorial on July’s issue, Youngjo had organized a huge party patronized by Vogue Korea for him. Geonhak generally didn’t enjoy that kind of events, but San would have been the guest star extraordinaire and he knew that, of course, the campaign would have been a great trampoline, but attending the party would have been the once in a lifetime chance for his modeling career. He couldn’t miss it for anything in the world.

As per usual, Geonhak arrived early and tried to avoid the crowd surrounding the red carpet by asking his driver to drop him off at the secondary entrance to the venue. He didn’t like the spotlight and his only wish was to stay away from it at all costs: Geonhak would have rather allowed his work to speak for himself without necessarily needing to give the media a face to associate to his name, being well aware of how that world worked. As soon as he got there, though, Geonhak’s plans were subverted when he received a panicked text from San asking “WHERE ARE YOU? I’M NOT GETTING OUT OF MY CAR UNTIL I SEE YOU”, that made him change his mind.

With a concerned sigh, worried that San might have been having a panic attack, Geonhak asked his driver to reach for the main entrance as fast as he could and threw himself out of his ride like his life depended on it, careless of the photographers, of the journalists, of all the curious eyes being pointed on him as he went looking for San behind every tinted glass of the fancy cars queue. When he was halfway through, suddenly, he heard a door unlock and that’s when he saw him, getting out of a night blue BMW, as breathtaking as ever, wearing a tailor made black suit, with crystals and beads embroidered all over, to emulate a countless number of stars, and a see-through, sheer, silvery shirt. 

“Hello, love.” San whispered, as soon as he was close enough for only Geonhak to hear 

“Too bad I cannot kiss you right now.” He answered, taking a long look at San and noticing how he was wearing a pair of earrings he wore when they were shooting in Jeju “You are wonderful tonight.” 

“Is this an Eric Clapton reference?” San asked, giggling, intertwining his fingers with Geonhak’s in the meantime as they approached the red carpet.

“Maybe…” Geonhak answered with a fond smile, as he gently leaned down towards San’s cheek to leave a light kiss on his cheekbone, silently wishing the party would have been already over in order to go back home with San and cuddle with him on the sofa for the rest of the night.

“How very classy of you.” The beautiful model answered, holding Geonhak’s hand tighter and giving him a soft pull towards the entrance “So, shall we?”

“Like this?” Geonhak asked, his eyes traveling from their hands to San’s face, back and forth, with a confused and panicked expression “Like... _ This _ ? You sure? I mean, not like I don’t want to do this... but this is your first big fashion event and... maybe… maybe you don’t want to give away to the press the fact that...you know...you’re not... _ single _ ?”

“Geonhak, what the hell are you saying? Since when do you care about what the press says? It’s us. I won’t be someone different than who I am when I step on that red carpet, and if the fact that I’m not single is going to be an issue for anyone, they can die mad about it. I don’t intend to make our relationship come second to my image.”

Not fully convinced about the real wisdom of San’s words and still believing that this could have been a pretty reckless move on his behalf, but won over by the genuinity of his feelings, Geonhak nodded in agreement and followed San on the red carpet, holding his hand and waving and posing for the crowd of reporters standing in front of them, at the back of the barricade. Right when he believed they were about to leave, though, San turned around to face him and pulled Geonhak closer, locking his arms around his neck, to kiss him. At that moment, Geonhak’s mind went blank for a second, before being suddenly filled by contrasting thoughts and feelings. He wanted to pull away, he wanted to stop, he knew that a kiss was way too much to feed those journalists, but at the same time he was moved, flattered, filled up with emotion at the thought that, once again, San was doing something that, for possibly irresponsible, was meant to prove him how serious he was about their relationship. About them.

Roses were for keepers, but a kiss at a high-profile, public event was forever.

When San pulled back, eventually, completely ignoring the questions screamed by the reporters, the blinding flashes and the pelting sounds of the cameras’ shutters, his hands indulged caressing Geonhak’s nape, while he offered him a fond smile.

“You’re blushing!” He said, with a cute nose scrunch “Don’t be so embarrassed, love… What are you going to do when we get married?”

Geonhak wished he had the mental promptness to answer, but one again, San let him overwhelmed with emotions and, just as if nothing were, after he dropped the m-word bomb, he grabbed his hand and joyfully drew him away after him, as he toddled off towards the venue’s entrance. 

Geonhak tried to regain his composure, at the best of his faculties, but he would have lied if he were to say that San’s words weren’t still floating in his mind, silencing any other thought.

_ What are you going to do when we get married? _

_ Probably cry _ , Geonhak concluded, in his mind.  _ A lot. And uncontrollably _ .

But San was already inside and busy greeting Youngjo and Hongjoong to hear his answer.

And he should have better gone to say hi, too.

“How does the spotlight taste, old boy?” Youngjo said as he greeted Geonhak with an unnecessarily strong and tight hug, that only later he figured being meant to get close enough to whisper in his ear, unnoticed, “I’ve seen that you and the baby boy have given them a show out there, uh? Nicely done. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I guess neither did I… He took me by surprise and to be quite frank I’m still stunned.” Geonhak murmured back, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Youngjo, who, instead, gave him a sly smile in return and an eyeroll as he dragged him away from San and Hongjoong, who were apparently deep in their conversation.

“Stunned? No less? Because of a kiss? Listen, Geonhak, I know we always talk about being professional and appropriate all the time, but San’s career is skyrocketing at the moment, and a little spicy talk will only increase his popularity. Look at him. He’s handsome, talented, young, successful, and now, as a cherry on top, people will know he’s spontaneous, emotional, sweet and madly in love. If you think that people will judge him or think any less of him because of a kiss, then you know very little about the world. This is exactly what San should be known for: being himself, all the time, with all of his endless list of talents, but also with his joyful, youthful, affectionate, warm, quirky side. That kiss is what is going to make people adore him because he’s human. Because he loves you and isn’t afraid to show that to the world. And you wanna hear what’s the best part? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know about all the possible outcomes of his actions, he doesn’t act in a certain way just to get a determined reaction, he is 100% true to himself and would never do something because he expects to have any personal gain or public recognition. You should be happy about this and allow yourself to enjoy this moment. Life is too short to be upset about love.” 

While Geonhak listened to Youngjo’s very legitimate piece of wisdom, he kept feeling a sort of turmoil in his heart. Why was he so upset about a public display of affection? Why did San mentioning marriage freeze him like that? This was everything he wanted and even more, so what was the matter with him? 

After Youngjo finished speaking, he called a waiter with a quick hand raise and got two flutes of champagne off of the silver tray he was carrying, handing one to Geonhak and silently sipping on his one, not so secretly gloating about how well he handled that situation.

“It’s… It’s not like I’m not glad about the fact that my bond with San is growing strong and that he’s so unapologetically honest about it. It’s just that I care about him and I can’t help but worry. He lives his life with a lightness that derives from his past sufferings, it’s almost as if having been hurt has given him wings, while I… I have only gotten scars in return. What scares me is that he might not know the extent of the weight that getting involved with me might imply. I’m afraid that, with time, my fears and my anxieties will become the chains he’ll find himself being anchored too, and that when he will realize that, he will be too kind, too gracious and too moved to pity to take back his word. To walk away. I call him  _ Starboy _ , Youngjo, because I know he is a star, and I knew it right away. He’s meant to shine, to leave the world in awe, basking in his blinding light, while I… I feel like a black hole: an undefined mass of darkness capable of swallowing whole all the beauty surrounding me, with my constant terror of not deserving any kind of joy. I don’t want to be the ball and chain keeping him from flying. I don’t want to dim down his shine. I don’t want him to shrink because of how little I feel, compared to him.” 

By the time he had finished speaking, Geonhak could feel his eyes burning, his lashes struggling to obediently keep the tears in balance, before they could disastrously fall and give way for many others to follow them along his cheeks. He didn’t know what had gotten into him or where did all of those words reside in him, but somehow the familiar presence of Youngjo, of  _ his friend Youngjo _ , and not Youngjo, the director in chief, had unlocked an invisible barrier in his mind he wasn’t even aware of existing and caused all of his fears to overflow from the cage in which Geonhak would habitually confine them and become words he had never dared speaking out loud before.

There was something, in his soul, that felt sore and hyper sensitized after coming clean in such a raw way about his fears. Geonhak had never allowed himself to be that vulnerable with anyone, except with San, and yet, even with him, he had never been able to vocalize those depths of his mind with quite that much clarity and that, probably, depended on the fact that, unlike with San, Geonhak was not as emotionally involved with Youngjo. Not anymore, anyway. He was more of an objective listener, and moreover one who had known him for a longer time.

The warmth of Youngjo’s hand gently, yet firmly, grabbing him by the shoulder brought Geonhak back to reality. When he raised his gaze to look at him, Youngjo’s expression was stern and kind at the same time. He kept looking at Geonhak with an unspeakable tenderness in his eyes, making sure to give him a second to slightly recover from that emotional wave, before he would answer.

“Geonhak… My sweet, sweet Geonhak…” Youngjo took the time to finish his champagne and to recollect his thoughts, while trying to not get too emotional. He had always found it to be quite absurd how Geonhak seemed to naturally understand the beauty and the true nature of everyone, except his own, projecting an inexplicably distorted image of himself and not recognising his own worth, even when it was as clear as day. “I wish there was a way to show you the marvellous human being you truly are, to make you see yourself through my eyes, or even better, through San’s eyes, but I’m afraid you’ll have to trust me on that. You know, one thing I always thought about you, even when we had just begun working together, was that you were doing the perfect job for you. You saw right through other people, you have always had this incredible gift of being capable to see their soul, their flaws, their assets, their true self, and immortalising that raw, truthful, disarming perception of them, eternally, on a film. You have made a unique masterpiece out of every single individual who has had the honor to appear in front of your camera, and you want to know what all those shots have in common?  _ You _ .”

Geonhak shook his head, a shy, flattered smile involuntarily pushing up one corner of his lips. He would have liked to retaliate. To say that it was not true, that it was no biggie. But Youngjo beated him on the rush and continued to speak, undaunted. 

“You have an innate understanding of human nature because you, in the first place, are the most profoundly humane, sensitive, intelligent, brilliant, receptive and gentle person I have ever met. You are not used to feeling acknowledged, and that’s probably on me, because I know I never say it enough, for the immense talent you have been gifted with and that you so generously put in all of your works, glorifying someone else’s persona to the point that you are so keen to become forgetful of the truth. And the truth is that, without you, that very beauty would have remained undisclosed to the world. You think you’re not enough, that you have nothing to offer, that you will weigh San down, that you will cage him, while in reality you’re the most selfless person in the world, and your actions from tonight widely prove that. You never come to any events, and yet, tonight, you came to support him. You wanted to come in from the backdoor, yet when San asked you to come to him, you overcame all of your fears because he asked you to. As soon as he kissed you, you thought of his career, and not about the fact that, by tomorrow morning, your face would have been on the headlines of all the magazines. You are not dulling him down, Geonhak. He’s making you fearless and pushing you out of your comfort zone, and it’s fine to be scared of change, but at the same time, that does not imply that what you already are does not suffice. He wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if it hadn’t been for you being you. He knew who you were to begin with, and he chose you just like you chose him. 

San is a gorgeous young man, overflowing with talents, incredibly gifted and whatnot, but if you think you’re any less, I’m really sorry, but I will have to disappoint your inner saboteur. You say he’s a star and that you’re made of nothing but darkness. Well, listen to me now. He might be the Starboy, Geonhak, but he needs the night sky in order to shine.”

Before they could continue the conversation, before Geonhak could object, the two were reached over by San and Hongjoong, who cheerfully inserted themselves sooner than any other words could be spoken, and maybe for the better.

“What are you two doing, all huddled up in here? Still talking about work?” Hongjoong asked, with a voice as smooth and smug as velvet, as he slipped his arm under Youngjo’s and laid his head on his shoulder.

He was a definitely charming, handsome, young man, with a very distinctive look. Lean and dainty, his features were both strong and ephebic at the same time; smooth, soft cheeks and plush lips contrasting with the slender, pointy nose and the sharp jaw, while his lively, shiny eyes darted from one corner to the other of the room, obviously struggling to contain his excitement. If Hongjoong tried to keep it together at the best of his faculties, only ever so seldom betrayed by a faint tremble of his hands or a nervous lip-biting, San’s face was an open book: he stared around in awe, his jaw dropped at the sight of the luxury and the splurge surrounding them.

Youngjo had never been one to be on a budget when it came to events: he had always been the one to go big or go home, and that particular party made no exception. If anything, he had put even more effort on it, sparing no expense and arranging for all those extra special things to adequately set the tone for Hongjoong’s jewelry line grand debut.

It was his first big event, or at least the first one that really mattered, and his ill-deceived enthusiasm had both Youngjo and Geonhak exchange a knowing look of endearment. 

It felt good, for them, to see both Hongjoong and San so happy, thrilled and anxious at the same time. In a way, it reminded Youngjo and Geonhak about their early days at Vogue, about their first party ever, when they were the ones being escorted around as they tried to hide their excitement, and it made the both of them live that kind of momentum again, clouded by a glint of nostalgia.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, hyung,” Geonhak whispered, close enough to Youngjo’s ear so that no one else could hear him “Are you, by any chance, planning something?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Youngjo answered back, with an expression on his face that told a whole other story, as he discreetly searched for something in the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a shining, white gold ring encrusted with diamonds on all of its surface, just enough for Geonhak to take a peek, before putting it back where it was and winking to him. “ _ Absolutely no idea _ .”

Geonhak smiled and patted his back, sincerely happy for them and mildly amused at the thought of Youngjo, the unrepentant golden bachelor, getting married.

The thought made him incredibly soft and Geonhak couldn’t help but notice how the marriage subject kept popping up, almost as if it was the theme of the night. He thought again about San’s playful remark from not long before. Maybe he was just joking. Maybe he didn’t really mean it as in something likely to happen. But now that he had put it out there, Geonhak suddenly found himself incapable of thinking about anything else. For a moment, his mind wandered away to the thoughts of them exchanging vows and putting on their wedding rings, of their honeymoon, possibly in Jeju, where it all began, of their everyday life together as husbands...

An increasingly louder chattering sound caught Geonhak’s attention and prevented him from getting lost in wishful thinking. In the blink of an eye he was back to reality, to the party, offering his arm to San and walking him around to introduce him to some of the people he knew and had worked with: fashion designers, photographers, actors, models and such. But as soon as the conversations didn’t require his mediation anymore, he gladly indulged in blissful contemplation of how he pictured their future life together and realised how, all in all, the thought of sharing all of him with San was not scary anymore, if only he allowed himself to see the bright side.

Maybe, the following day his thoughts might have turned dark and weary again.

But at least, only for that night, he made room in his heart for love, and love only.

As foreseen, the party was an absolute success and it went on until late night, way later than usual. The invited didn’t seem to want to leave, inebriated by the magnificent, glamorous atmosphere, and frankly encouraged to stay by the live artists invited to play and by the overflowing streams of excellent drinks. While most of the others stayed inside, though, Geonhak and San headed towards the internal garden of the venue, where they had been delightfully dancing and laughing and talking for hours until the first lights of dawn, after having entertained their fair share of public relationships. When both of them got tired enough, they sat down on a bench by a fountain to catch their breath and have one last drink before going home together.

“So, did you have fun?” Geonhak asked San, gently combing a lock of San’s hair behind his ear and sliding his hand on his cheek to indulge in a sweet caress.

“Of course I did! Did you? I know this kind of event is not your cup of tea, but Geonhak, it was so amazing. And tonight wouldn’t have been half as special if I hadn’t had you here, with me, to share it with. You make everything special. You make me the happiest person in the world.” San answered, rubbing his cheek against Geonhak’s hand, much like a cat enjoying the generous amount of cuddles and demanding for more.

“Shut up, I did nothing...” Geonhak said, allowing San to curl up against his chest, while he wrapped his arms around him and gave him a sweet forehead kiss “It was all you… You’re a natural, you know? All you needed was to feel comfortable enough.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been so at ease without you. It’s like you always bring out the best in me and make me feel safe enough to actually be myself, so stop saying you did nothing. You did a lot, you do a lot for me all the time, and you know what… Sometimes I think you don’t value yourself enough in our relationship, Geonhak, and it really breaks my heart, because I feel like I can never prove it enough to you how special you really are. I’m not saying this as a critique, mind you, I’m saying this out of love. Whenever I try to make you realise what an amazing person you are, how talented you are, how much I cherish and appreciate you, your creativity, your personality and all the things you do for me, you back away, brush off whatever I say and diminish yourself and I don’t know… It kind of doesn’t sit well with me how you always dismiss all my attempts to show you how important you are. I don’t know why you do that, but it makes me terribly sad, Geonhak. I’m not some sort of Sun around which you have to gravitate. I’m a person, just like you, and I don’t understand why you always minimize all of my compliments and my appreciation towards you to redirect the conversation towards me. I love you, Geonhak, I love you so much, I adore everything about you, and I wish I could help you feel less insecure about yourself, but you don’t let me do it. You don’t let me in. You’ve let me into your house, into your life, but you don’t let me in your heart, not completely at least, while that is the only thing I have really been asking for. And I can’t help but wonder why.” 

Gently, yet heartbreakingly, San slipped out of Geonhak’s hold to look right at him with eyes filled with tears, looking as defeated and tired as ever.

He would have never wanted to talk about that matter, not like that. He tried to waddle around the subject, tiptoeing as he tried to find the right time, the right words, but maybe there were no such things when it came to speaking from the heart. Out of all the things that could have been said about him, San was surely not a dumb or insensitive person: he understood Geonhak way more than he actually disclosed, but at the same time, whenever he tried to address the issues he perceived about Geonhak’s self esteem, anxieties and fears, there didn’t seem to be a way to bring him to open up, and that, more than anything, was devastating to San. For as much as San tried to make him feel loved, to trust him on his words, to offer him his support, to let him know that he wouldn’t have abandoned him, he could always feel how Geonhak instinctively tried to slip away when it came to truly open up about his feelings, his uncertainties, his desires, his hurt. That hurt that San could feel, that he wished he could have healed, but that Geonhak kept trying to keep from him, too scared to let San see him at his most vulnerable self. Too scared he would have left. That very hurt that was now wounding San as well, for the more Geonhak avoided it, the more he felt him getting more distant, more fearful, more afraid.

“San… I don’t know what to say…” Geonhak muttered, staring at the ground as he held his head in his hands, a piercing pang tearing his chest apart as his heart started to beat faster and his breath got heavier.

That whole situation was absurd and paradoxal. Just a few hours before he was wondering about their marriage, about their honeymoon, about San moving in with him, and now, out of the blue, they were having their very first conflict from the beginning of their relationship. It made no sense. In Geonhak’s mind none of that made any sense. He was shocked, dismayed and he had a weird gut feeling that screamed at him that thing was not going to end well.

Geonhak tried to suppress it, but his body didn’t seem to want to comply with the mandatory order to calm the fuck down coming from his brain.

“Don’t say anything, then. But at this point I think that a little distance may be useful for us to sort out how much we really intend to work on ourselves in order to be together.”

“What do you mean, a little distance? San, what the hell are you talking about?” Geonhak jolted up on his feet, suddenly filled up with panic, shaking from head to toe as he faced San, his heart thundering in his ribcage with a deafening rhythm and fists clenched to try to hold himself together. Fuck staying calm. Fuck his brain. Fuck everything. That was absolute bullshit and he had no intention to stay silent.

“I need to tell you something,” San whispered, closing his eyes and letting his tears roll down his cheeks, as he took a deep breath and pressed his lips together to try and loosen up the growing tension he felt “As soon as we came back from Jeju, I auditioned for a role in a production of the Swans’ Lake that is supposed to go on tour for the next eight months. I got a phone call yesterday. They have chosen me. And I said yes.”

After San spoke and took that weight off his chest, the silence fell on the garden. He kept crying as quietly as he could, his eyes staring at Geonhak, glassy and almost lifeless, his mouth slightly opened and gasping for air. He kept praying to himself that Geonhak would have said something. That he would have done something. But Geonhak stood on his feet, a few meters away from him, his back turned on him. He wanted to run to him, to hug him, to throw himself in his comforting embrace and cry his heart out, but the blanket of silence fallen between them seemed to be insurmountable and unbreakable.

“Wow. You sure do a lot of talking about letting you in for someone who planned to leave all along, from the very beginning.” At long last, Geonhak spoke and his words stabbed San like a thousand daggers. 

“I… What? Don’t fucking twist it, Geonhak!” San had never heard him speaking like this. His voice was dry, emotionless, severe and unrelenting. It made San want to cry even more. Everything about that circumstance made him want to cry his heart out and to seek comfort in the arms of that very same person that was tearing him apart, and in spite of how hurt he felt, he only wanted to scream at Geonhak that he loved him.

“Excuse me, I’m not twisting anything! I may have many flaws, San, I may be insecure, I may be timid, I may be melancholic, and yes, I may have a series of traumas I don’t like to talk about. But at least I am not a liar. Everything I have ever told you about me, it has always been the truth and nothing but the truth. I didn’t hide my projects or intentions about anything from you.”

“Neither did I! I didn’t lie to you! I knew I was  _ literally _ chosen yesterday and I was just looking for the right moment to talk to you about it!” He tried to explain himself, but all he said only seemed to make things worse and to infuriate Geonhak even further.

“But you auditioned months ago and didn’t speak a fucking word! Were you looking for the right moment? The right moment was six months ago! After that damn audition!”

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to get my hopes high and then set myself up for failure!”

“Well you are setting  _ us  _ up for failure!” Geonhak screamed, pointing his finger at San and looking at him with so much resentment and rage that San never thought he would have had in him.

“I am  _ what _ now? Geonhak do you even hear yourself? How is me wanting to have a career, to follow my ambitions, setting us up for failure?”

“It is since you decided to not discuss your plans with me, like all normal couples do! They talk, they discuss, they share! How am I supposed to trust you when you keep such a relevant decision from me?”

“And how am I supposed to trust you when you’re the one who never talks, discusses or shares his worries and his concerns? When all you do is push me away when I try to get close? When all I ever asked was for you to let me love you? I only want to love you, Geonhak. The good, the bad, the light, the darkness, I don’t care. I’m ready to do whatever it takes, I am just asking for you to please, please,  _ please _ , allow me to love everything about you.” Eventually, San broke down. 

He curled down over his knees, hands on his face trying to hide his desperation from Geonhak, trembling like a leaf and bawling so much that his ribcage hurt, while he regretted everything he had said and done and mentally begged for a forgiveness he dared not to ask out loud, too scared, frustrated and drained from the senseless series of miscommunication. He felt defeated and devastated on such a deep level he couldn’t even find the words to express himself anymore. He just wanted that whole discussion to stop, to possibly turn back time and to go back to half an hour before, when the only kind of screaming they knew was out of joy, when he would have been allowed to rest on Geonhak’s chest, when all was perfect and not a trace of heartbreak was in sight.

After a few minutes, during which Geonhak tried to shut down the roaring rage in his chest and to find some clarity in his mind, he slowly walked up to San, taking deep breaths. When he noticed what a pitiful state he was in, he had to make an effort that cost him an incredible amount of his force of will to not wrap his arms around San and smother him with all of the affection he was capable of. He resisted, but in that moment Geonhak felt how obeying to the dictat of his ego made his heart shatter more for every single second he spent looking at San being so miserable and not doing anything to reconcile with him. 

There was something deep within him that wanted him to swallow his pride and rush to San’s rescue, but at the same time Geonhak felt still way too hurt and crossed to second his heart’s longings. It had all been too much, and he needed time to think and to seriously evaluate how such a heated discussion could have sparked between them.

“You know what, San? Maybe you’re right. Maybe we do need some time apart to figure where we are going with this relationship and, more importantly, if we still want the same things. I’ll be going home now, and so should you. I’ll call you a cab. Get home safe and take care.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


After the night of their argument, Geonhak and San didn’t speak to each other for weeks. His tournée would have taken him to all of the most prestigious opera theatres in the world, starting in Milan, Italy, and ending in Seoul eight months later.

The days following the party, San refused to leave his room.

Hwanwoong, his roommate, tried, in vain, to convince him to eat the smallest amounts of food, but all he accepted was water or, at most, some chamomile tea.

He tried to rest, but every time he managed to fall asleep, for some wicked reason his mind decided to play some foul tricks on him and to make him dream of Geonhak, to the point that San begun to wake up in tears in the middle of the night, shivering, his chest almost crushed by the appalling tachicardia, incapable to move, for even breathing seemed too much of an effort for him to pursuit.

Incapable to sleep, to attend rehearsals, to even get out of his bed, getting more and more weak and debilitated day by day, San lost count of how much time had passed since he had locked himself up, until one day he heard Hwanwoong screaming outside of his door.

“San, are you awake?” His flatmate asked with an unnecessarily loud tone.

“Mh-hm” San hummed, hiding himself under the blankets and squinting his eyes. 

“Good, because I’m going to break down the door, since you refuse to open up.”

“No, no, Hwanwoong, no!” In his mind, San jumped out of bed. In reality, he merely managed to toss his blankets away from his face and stare at the door, helpless, as tears of frustration started to fall from his lashes and he grasped with his hands, as tight as he could, on the bed sheets.

He knew Hwanwoong meant well, but he didn’t have the physical energy to deal with him, let alone the psychological one, and God knew Hwanwoong sometimes could have been a lot for him. All San wished was to be left in peace, alone with his sorrow, to lick his wounds, or at least trying to do so, but that seemed to be too much to ask for when it came to his friend, who was determined to get him out of the only place where he really wanted to be.

A second later, San shuddered as his door slammed open with a loud thud and Mingi, Hwanwoong’s boyfriend, timidly walked in with a shy smile, followed right away by Hwanwoong, who ran towards him with the most distraught face San had ever seen on him.

“San, look at me,” Hwanwoong said, snapping his fingers in front of his eyes “I need you to listen closely to me now. You’re devastated, I know that. Believe me, I do. But if you think I’m going to allow you to do…  _ this _ … to yourself, then you’ll have to seriously reconsider. First thing, you’re gonna eat. I don’t care if you only take one spoon of rice or a little soup, you’re going to have to eat at least a little food for me, ok?”

San nodded, pressing his lips together and looking for Hwanwoong’s hand to hold.

“Good. While we wait for the delivery to arrive, Mingi and I will help you take a bath and get you all nice and clean. Do you feel like doing that?”

Again, San nodded and Hwanwoong gently asked Mingi if he could go to the bathroom to prepare a hot bath for him. Before Hwanwoong left with Mingi, though, San squeezed his hand to get his attention.

“Hyung,” he whispered, with a feeble voice “What do I do now?”

Hwanwoong stared at him for a couple of seconds before answering, taking his time to brush away the sweaty hair from San’s forehead and tenderly caressing his cheek.

“What everyone else who has had a broken heart has done before you. You find it in yourself to get out of bed. You force yourself to get up, no matter how much you want to curse the whole universe. You can curse it inside of you. But outside, it’s business as usual. You go back to your life, starting again from where you left it. You wake up. You eat. You take a shower. You go to work. You come home. You eat. You sleep. And you repeat everything, from start to finish, until it doesn’t hurt anymore. And in the meantime, you focus on what matters. Your health, both physical and psychological. Your career. Your friends. Your schedule. How do you think you’re going to be able to go on a tournée if you can’t even go from your bed to the kitchen? You have to snap out of this ball of gloom that is swallowing you whole and remember that you sure do love him very much, but that you need to love yourself even more. I’ll be here to help you every step of the way, but you need to give it your all as well. Understood? Good. Now, let’s get out of here, shall we? The water will get cold.” Softly, Hwanwoong slid his arm around San’s chest and helped him stand up, mindfully checking that his movements weren’t too fast or too harsh for him.

While they were halfway through the corridor towards the bathroom, San grabbed Hwanwoong’s shoulder tighter, a deep sense of gratefulness filling up his heart and warming him up for the first time after weeks of total apathy.

“Thank you, hyung.” He muttered, under his breath.

“Don’t even mention it, dumbass. And, San… If you’re seriously evaluating ditching this tournée because of a broken heart, know that next time I’ll call you  _ dumbass _ , I will mean it wholeheartedly.”

* * *

  
  
  


The day San left, for some weird reasons, he expected to see Geonhak at the airport. For the whole time he was at the terminal, he looked around, trying to spot his face in the crowd, wishing and waiting for him to appear for one last kiss before he left, dreaming of one of those movie scenes where the lovers eventually run towards each other and understand that they loved each other way too much to not make room for forgiveness in their hearts. But that wasn’t a movie. That was real life, and independently on how hard San prayed for Geonhak to show up, he did not. Right before his flight took off, he received a message from him, wishing him good luck. San read it just on time: a couple seconds after, the hostesses gave the announcement to turn off all cell phones and buckle up the seat belts. He complied with the safety measures, pulled his hoodie all the way down to his face, turned his face to the window and cried.  _ Out of sight, out of mind _ . That’s what they say.

But all San could think about, every moment of every day they had been parted, was how much he really missed Geonhak, his sweet smile, his cute nose scrunches, his soft pecks, his warm hands caressing his cheeks, the way he held him, their late night cuddles, their morning conversations before going off their own ways for their day...

He still missed everything about him. 

He missed him so much it hurt in a physical way.

If it depended on him, he would have barely left his hotel room if not for rehearsals and for the shows. San didn’t feel like socializing or even being in the same room with any other human being for a single minute more than the strictly necessary.

Sometimes, when the loneliness and the sadness became unbearable, San would facetime Hwanwoong, to find little consolation in his words, but even more than that, he had Sunmi, his mentor and trainer, with him all the time during the tour.

In a way, she knew him better than anyone else, and surely she had known him for the longest time, enough to know the meaning of his silences, to understand his mood from the way he stepped on the scene, to feel his suffering from his posture. 

Generally speaking, Sunmi always knew when something was going on with San, but she was never the one to face him headstrong. She rather waited for him to come to her and open up about his troubles, but when she noticed the persistence of his gloomy mood and how it was affecting him, she knew she had to do something.

They had just landed in Rome when she grabbed him by the arm, at the exit of the airport and silently dragged him with her to take a taxi together, leaving the rest of the crew behind. San followed her, without even questioning what she had in mind or where they were headed to.

“So,” she said as soon as they sat down in the taxi and she had indicated a destination to the driver “Are you going to get your shit together or do you plan to spend this whole tournée consuming yourself with this pain eating you alive?”

San didn’t answer. He kept looking down at the vehicle’s moquette, biting his lower lip to not burst out in tears  _ again _ . If there was one thing San despised, was to show himself vulnerable on work, even if it was Sunmi. He just hated it, and he hated himself even more for being incapable to conceal his emotions.

“San, you know you can talk to me. We always talked about everything. I just… I don’t want to upset you or cross you, but I see that you’re suffering, I see that you’re constantly tense, tired, weak, drained even, and I cannot help but worry. I love you like a brother and seeing you like this is heartbreaking for me. You wanted to get this role for such a long time, I don’t get it, you should be head over heels! This is the chance of a lifetime, you’re living the dream, and yet all I’m seeing from you is an irrepressible sadness, so you’ll forgive me if I, once again, ask what’s the matter with you.”

“Noona…” San muttered, sniffing, as he turned around to look at her “I think I screwed up. I really think I screwed up big time.”

“Come here,” Sunmi said, softly, with her usual comforting smile and her arms wide opened to allow San to snuggle up in her embrace “Come here, sweetheart, and tell me everything. We’ll sort this out together, like we’ve always done.”

Patiently, without saying a word, Sunmi listened to everything San had to say about his argument with Geonhak and how they had parted in  _ not exactly _ the best of terms, nodding here and there as she carefully evaluated the whole situation in her mind. When he finished explaining everything to her, through the tears, they had arrived at their destination: a marvelous garden built on top of the Aventino hill, known as the Orange Garden, with a breathtaking view on the city of Rome. They walked up to the stone parapet and there they remained in absolute silence, contemplating the beautiful sight of the sun setting on the Eternal City, lulled by the soft flowing sound of the Tiber right under the garden and caressed by the ever so slightly prickly autumnal breeze.

“You know, San, of all the possible places in the world, no one can soothe your soul like Rome. There is a sort of magic, here, an atmosphere of beauty, of eternity, of romance, that makes you feel suspended in a timeless dimension, almost like a dream. And every time I have the chance to come here, Rome makes me realise who I really want to be here with. Who would I want to share all these incredible emotions with. If you close your eyes and let your mind wonder, who do you see standing next to you? Are you here alone? Or is there anyone with you?” Sunmi asked, leaning on the parapet with her eyes lost in the landscape in front of her and the burning red light of the sunset glowing on her perfect skin.

San closed his eyes and sighed before answering.

“Geonhak. I see Geonhak here with me.” He said, but then he turned around and added, in a miserable tone “But I told you, he doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t want me anymore.”

“Really? And how do you know? Have you asked him?” Sunmi urged him, with a raised eyebrow and a smile “From what you have told me, San, it sounds like the two of you argued for the same exact reason: lack of communication. Now, I get that you have decided to take a break and that you probably have a lot of work to do if you want your relationship to last, but this kind of work can only be done together. Cutting out any form of communication when that is the exact reason why you two ended up discussing doesn’t sound like the smartest move to me. If anything, it will only lead to more misunderstandings. He never said he didn’t want you anymore, from what you have just told me. Do you want to know? Then call him, San. Tell him what you want him to know. Ask him what you need to understand. I’ll be waiting.” 

“What? Now?”

“Now.” Sunmi answered, before taking her purse and luggage and walking up to a bench in a corner of the garden, under an Orange tree.

San pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and stared at the screen for a few minutes that felt like an eternity, secretly battling between his conscious self, telling him that it was the right thing to do, and his unconscious self, that made him want to run away. He felt nauseous as he scrolled through his contacts, and when he reached the name “Geonhak” his stomach clenched under an invisible clamp.

He took a deep breath and then, eventually, pressed on the call option.

“ _ Don’t pick up, don’t pick up, don’t pick up, don’t pick up, don’t pi- _ ” He chanted to himself, like a mantra, but indeed, as in the best tradition of events, Geonhak picked up.

“Hello?” Geonhak asked, with a sleepy voice “San? Are you there?”

“Hey” San whispered, feeling the tears rise at the brim of his eyes “Yes, I’m here.”

“Hey… Good to hear you.” Geonhak said, hesitantly. San could feel his voice break, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of the shitty network service or because of emotion.

“Did I wake you up?” 

“Nah, I just got home to be honest. Where in the world are you now? How is the tournée going?”

“It’s going… I guess...” San said, and went silent right after. Hearing Geonhak was way more emotional than he was ready to actually take, and he felt himself surrendering to the commotion growing on him. 

“San, what’s going on? Are you ok? Is anything the matter? ...San,  _ sweetheart _ …” Geonhak’s voice reached for San’s heart, warm like a hug and powerful like an avalanche, and the moment he called him  _ sweetheart _ , the automaticity with which he called him that, almost as if nothing had happened, made San feel even lonelier than ever before.

He suddenly felt all the weight of the distance as all he wanted was to run to him and kiss him for all the time he hadn’t done it in the past months.

“I just… Geonhak, I miss you so much… I miss you so terribly much… All I do is miss you and be terrified at the thought of having lost you…” San wished he could have said way more than that, that he could have found better words to convey his feelings in all of their intensity, but the more thoughts and emotions crowded his head and the quieter he became.

“I miss you too, San. You know I’m no good with words, but I miss you.” Even though those were the words San was longing to hear, when Geonhak answered him like that, he felt his heart shattering out of guilt and regret for the mess they made. For how stupidly they had clashed against each other, without figuring that they were both behaving in the same way about different matters, that they were both demanding for the exact same thing in different ways. In the end, the root of their conflict was just the other side of the reason that had initially brought them together: them being opposite and complementary. 

“...Really?” San held his breath as his heart sank, waiting for an answer which he had needed, for which he had yearned, for all those weeks of unstandable silence.

“Of course... San, how could you doubt that? I miss you every single day and more than I can say.” Geonhak said, heaving a long, almost preparatory, sigh before the rest of his sentence “Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time, but… at first it felt too soon, and then it was never the right time, until it felt too late. The thing is, I’m sorry. I really am. I should have been the one to call you. I should have apologised sooner, I know, but I want you to know that I didn’t mean what I said that night…”

“It’s fine, Geonhak, even if you meant every single word it would be perfectly fine. You were right. I should have told you about the audition.” San interrupted Geonhak to reassure him as soon as he understood that he was overthinking and running in circles with his mind, but Geonhak didn’t seem to want to call it quits until he had completely spoken his mind.

“No, please, let me finish. I should have understood your reasons for not telling me about it. I just… I wasn’t in the right place to listen. I was already burdened with many negative thoughts, about which I didn’t feel like talking with you back then, partially because I was scared that they would have been too overwhelming for our relationship and that they would have scared you away, partially because I sincerely believed I could have handled them just fine on my own. Needless to say, that didn’t work and I bursted out at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

There was a long pause, afterwards. The memories of that night at the party stormed in both of their minds like a whirlwind, annihilating any other possible thoughts. All the hurt, all the sadness, all the frustration: everything felt just as vivid as it did when it happened, with the only difference that, now, they both knew where the consequences of their actions had led them.

Being alone again, after having had a taste of that incomparable happiness, after having been two of the lucky ones who had found, in the world, that special someone, that legendary soulmate, that other half that gave life a new meaning with his sole presence, had been torture for both of them, for in spite of how much they had hurt each other back then, nothing compared to the appalling devastation derivating from the perspective of having had the chance of loving the most perfect someone and having lost it.

“Do you think you can forgive me, even after all this time?” Geonhak whispered, and this time there was a subtle trembling of fear in his voice.

“Geonhak… I have never been mad at you to begin with. Hurt, yes, but I have learnt from that, and I guess so did you. So maybe, if you agree, we can talk about everything once I come back to Seoul, what do you say?” San suggested, finally a hint of a smile timidly flourished on his lips.

“I say yes. I will always say yes to you.” Geonhak answered, and San was quite sure he was smiling, as well, on the other side of the line.

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah. Sounds good. Is your show tonight or tomorrow? I printed the schedule with all the dates of the tournée, but I can’t find it right now.” There was a sound of him rummaging through some papers, in the background of Geonhak’s voice, that helplessly endeared San and made his heart skip a beat.

He never stopped caring, just like him, and that knowledge filled him up with a joy so intense that he could have screamed out of happiness.

“It’s tomorrow. We’ve just arrived in Rome and I was taking a stroll with Sunmi-noona.” He answered, looking with fondness at the beauty of the landscape stretching in front of his eyes way farther than he could see, going back with his mind to Sunmi’s word and realising that yes, out of all the people in the world, he really wished for Geonhak to be next him in that moment “It’s really beautiful here. You should see it. Actually… If you’re up for… You know… Talking to me again… I’ll take some pictures and send them to you later, so you can tell me what you think. Just keep in mind that I’m not the best photographer.”

“I always want to talk to you, San. This was never what I wanted. So I’ll be more than glad to see those pictures, I’d be happy even if you sent me snaps of your goddamn bamboo toothbrush in every hotel you’re staying, if that’s what it takes to talk to you.” Geonhak said, and they both burst out laughing just like they always used to do. 

It felt weird, but at the same time it felt good. 

It felt domestic.

It felt like  _ them _ . All over again.

“I’ll send you a picture of that as well, if you want to.” San couldn’t help but overstate, still in awe at how natural it still came to him and Geonhak to get along and be on the same wavelength “Just give me the time to arrive at the hotel, I don’t even know where we’re staying here.”

“You know I’ll hold you to that, right? Anyway, Sanie, I think you shouldn’t make Noona wait too long, and go to your hotel. You need to rest and to take good care of yourself, ok? At least until you’ll come back here. Then I hope you’ll still allow me to do it for you.” Geonhak’s voice felt like one of his caresses: warm, gentle, loving, and San couldn’t help but think about how much he had been yearning for it. 

He closed his eyes as he listened to him speak, and just for a second he could almost feel it on his skin.

“Of course I will. Sleep well, Geonhak. Talk to you soon.” He whispered, as sweetly as he could, hoping his voice could bring with itself all of his love.

“Sleep well too, sweetheart.” Geonhak said, before he hung up the phone.

San stood still, staring at the display of his phone with the silliest smile ever, while his heart beated faster and faster, for an uncountable amount of time, thinking about how much he wanted to go home, but also about how healing talking to Geonhak and finally being at peace with him had been for him, so much that, for the first time ever since they had left Seoul, he genuinely, wholeheartedly couldn’t wait to be on stage again.

Now that they had to be apart for still quite a long time, San felt the whole weight of the responsibility to make it worth the wait. If that tournée had been one of the reasons for their distancing, then it better had been the tournée of a lifetime, and eventually San was ready to make sure it would have been nothing short of spectacular.

When he walked up to Sunmi, he felt renewed.

“Noona?” He called her, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder “I’m ready to go.”

“Sure.” Sunmi answered, with a relieved smile on her lips “Let’s call a cab and go to the hotel.”

“Actually, I’d rather go to the Opera House, before we head to the hotel. I want to rehearse with you, if we have the permission to do that, and then maybe we can grab a bite on our way back. Would that be ok for you?”

“Ah, Sanie,” She sighed, as she stood up from the bench and playfully pinched his cheek “I thought you were never gonna ask.”

* * *

  
  
  


As the months went by and the tournée moved closer to its final dates, things between San and Geonhak seemed to be back to normal, for as much as the distance and the different time zones allowed them to be.

They tried to facetime at every given chance, compatibly with their schedules, and talked about their day, their work, the food they ate, the weather, the things they wanted to do when they would have been back together in Seoul and, of course, about how much they missed each other. But the most important part of their phone calls was that they had decided to dedicate a few minutes, every day, to discuss one thing they wanted to change about themselves or about their relationship in order to make it better, to grow, to spend their time apart in a constructive way. This way, while they were waiting to meet again, they were able to keep track of their personal goals, to discuss their progresses together, to offer mutual support when they caught themselves perpetrating their old habits and to hold each other accountable for making the right decisions day by day, in the perspective of slow, yet constant, individual development and self discipline for the sake of building together a healthier, stronger, safer relationship.

Getting back together, with a more self aware and mindful outlook on their personal issues and on the elements of their behavior that they believed to be responsible for their incomprehensions, felt relieving and healing for both San and Geonhak, who dearly treasured that part of the day when they were finally able to sit down, relax and discuss together their accomplishments and their propositions, with a honesty that, they both agreed, their previous relationship setting lacked. Furthermore, being able to actively work on themselves while they couldn’t actually meet face to face possibly made their effort more effective: they had no distractions or temptations to slack off, and setting a - _ strictly realistic _ \- list of objectives to achieve by themselves before San’s return to South Korea motivated them to commit with all of their determination to succeed.

In the meantime, San had found again, with Geonhak’s support and Sunmi’s constant help, the strength and the motivation to bring all he had to the stages where he performed, so much that the tournée received an unanimously enthusiastic response from the critique and in a double booking for the conclusive show in Seoul, thing which greatly surprised all the cast and the organizers: as a matter of fact, the first date sold out in ten minutes and the director got a phone call from the Seoul Ballet Theatre begging for an encore performance on the day following the originally scheduled one.

When San heard of that, he couldn’t believe his ears, so he called Geonhak right away to ask if he had heard anything about that and, most importantly, if he had made it to get his ticket for the first show, at least.

“What? Really?” Geonhak answered, and San could tell he was smiling from his voice tone that gave away his happiness right away “It’s such great news! Too bad I didn’t make it on time to get mine, though… I’m sorry, sweetheart, today we are shooting outside and I couldn’t get on my laptop when the ticket’s sale opened. Everything that could have gone bad on set, went even worse, could you believe it? The actor arrived with more than one hour and a half of delay, which at this point is basically expected, but in the meantime one of the softboxes broke, so I had to send Jongho to my studio to get another one, and when he came back we had more issues with the lights, because the weather got cloudy altogether… It was a mess. And now I’m even sadder, because I really wanted to see you right away...”

“It’s ok love, I understand, I mean, no one could have foreseen this occurrence. Plus, I’m really sorry for your workday… I really wish I could be there to welcome you home and treat you to samgyeopsal together, like we used to do.” San was clearly upset at the thought he wouldn’t have been there on their first show, but he understood that situation well and he knew how hectic Geonhak’s job could get sometimes, so he couldn’t really blame him. Nonetheless, he made a note-to-self to ask the director to book one seat for Geonhak for the second date. Even better: a whole loggia, so he could have had plenty of space, sit comfortably and enjoy the spectacle without any nuisance. 

“We’ll do it really soon… I promise you that.” Geonhak’s voice became melancholic all of a sudden. The distance was getting to him, even though he tried to keep it for himself as much as he could. He didn’t want to seem selfish or possessive, but the truth was that he genuinely missed him and was looking forward, every day more expectantly and eagerly, to San making his return in Seoul, so that they could have finally caught up their relationship from where they had left it.

“I know… Do you think that I could come over to your place right away when I arrive? The following day is going to be really packed, since I will have to wake up early to rehearse and then have the show in the evening, but I’d really love to see you as soon as I get there.”

“Sanie, you can always come to my place, I would love that too, but know that I have to work so I won’t be there for most part of the day. If you want to come over, you still have the keys, the fridge is full and you can have all the house to yourself to rest, bathe, sleep, watch tv, do whatever you like. I should be back by ten p.m. at best, though, so evaluate if you’d rather go to your home and hang out with Hwanwoong instead. I’ll be picking you up after your first show anyway, even if I can’t attend, so it would only mean we would be apart for one more day.” Remaining objective and putting San’s needs first cost Geonhak a lot, for he wanted more than anything to be with him, but at the same time he didn’t want him to be lonely.

“I guess you’re right. It’s only one more day, I shouldn’t be so impatient, plus I really want to say hi to Woongie and to catch up with him. But after the shows, please make sure to have a free weekend, ok?” San said, with a slight pitch of wittiness in his voice.

“Sure, is there anywhere special you want to go?” 

“Yes. Your bedroom. And I don’t plan for us to leave it.” He answered, naughtily biting his lip. “Are you up for that?”

“Oh.” Geonhak blushed so much at the unexpected suggestion that his cheeks could glow in the dark “S-sure… That would be… G-great. Amazing. Yes. Great.” He went on babbling, causing a loud, amused laugh from San, on the other side of the line.

“Good. I’ll leave you to your hard on, I need to go now. Rehearsals start in 15 minutes.” San said, still gloating at Geonhak’s adorably embarrassed reaction.

“Hey! I don’t have a…  _ Nevermind _ . But I’ll make you pay for this.” Geonhak almost screamed at the phone, pretending to be mad at him and miserably failing.

“Oh, love, I can’t wait!” Were San’s last words before hanging up. He smiled. He really couldn’t wait to see Geonhak, and not only because he wanted to jump on him. He missed his hugs. His perfume. His kisses. His sleepy voice in the morning. His caresses. His smile. His  _ everything _ . 

Now that he was so close to seeing him again, time seemed to pass slower than usual. But if there was something that San had learned, during those months, was that the patient ones were always going to be rewarded, and he trusted that he and Geonhak would have made no exception to this general golden rule.

He knew they would have been the lucky ones.

And even if they hadn’t been, then he would have made it work at any cost. 

  
  


* * *

Eventually, the night of the first show in Seoul came and San was as tense as a violin chord.

The night before he almost didn’t sleep a wink. Every time he dozed off, he got terrible nightmares that woke him up after a few minutes only with a terribly lingering sense of anxiety that he couldn’t shake off and a paralyzing tachicardia. After he woke up for the fifth time, San gave up on the idea of resting at all and accepted the idea that he would have had to deal with the longest day ever with not a second of rest at his back. 

He arrived early at rehearsals, hoping that dance, once again, would have been the best medicine for his soul’s turmoils, but his muscles were sore and stiffened and he seemed to lack his usual fluidity in movements. He could feel his joints twitch, fatigued, and the more he tried and retried some sections of choreography, trying to get them right, the more frustrated he grew. San knew he had to get his shit together in order to do well that night, the very night of the sold out show. He couldn’t fuck up. He just couldn’t.

Even with the sould out in mind, with his physical shape not being at its best, his main concern remained the fact that he would have at long last met Geonhak again, and he realized that he was afraid. Acknowledging that thought made him feel ashamed of himself. He had been waiting for that moment for so long, and now that the time had finally come, for some absurdly unknown reason, he was terrified. 

What if things would have gone wrong once they would have met again? What if they would have ended up arguing again? What if, after all that time, they still would have been unable to make things work the right way? Then what? Would their love and their hard work have been enough to find a way? Or would they have had to say goodbye for good?

While San kept asking himself those questions, with his heart racing in his chest at a frantic rhythm that almost didn’t let him breathe, he realized that he had been hit by all those perplexities because he had never, not once ever after him and Geonhak had gotten back together, the chance of failure, and maybe that meant something.

Maybe there were some things, in life, that were just not supposed to be questioned.

He thought about all of their conversations, all of their promises, all of their efforts, and about all the things they had been able to accomplish in those months: they had gotten better at communicating, they had ceased hiding their fears from one another, they had motivated each other to overcome their flaws with the support of one another, at times almost feeling as they were facing all of those hardships with one heart and one soul.

They had done everything they possibly could to make it right, and that knowledge alone was supposed to at least give him a glimmer of hope.

So why was he nervous?

Why was his heart cutting him no slack and nearly choking him with its convulsed rhythm?

Why was he shaking at the mere thought of seeing Geonhak again?

Why couldn’t he focus on the incoming show and put his worries aside?

Too stressed to actually focus on anything and too tired to have the energy to persevere in his efforts, San decided to leave the stage and head to his dressing room to sort out his feelings and try to relax for a little while: it would have been of no use for him to keep on exhausting himself when his whole body was that unresponsive. He sat down on the chair in front of the wide mirror and grabbed his phone. Whenever he was nervous, discouraged, frustrated, he would have gone through his photo gallery and found comfort in his old pictures taken with Geonhak: their selfies, the shots they would take of each other, the pictures of the places they had seen or of their everyday life together, all of those would always provide him with a deep sense of happiness and relaxation. If San focused enough, he could replay in his mind the memories of how and when one photo had been shot, what they were saying, what happened before, what they did and said after. After spending a few minutes like that, San eventually fell asleep, with the phone in his hands, all curled up on his chair, and was awakened about two hours later by Sunmi, who had come to look for him.

After having lunch and that little rest, not to mention an intense pep talk, courtesy of Sunmi, who immediately intervened as soon as she caught up on San’s lack of concentration on his routines, San felt like he was ready to properly prepare himself for the show, even with the little time remaining before the beginning of the show.

While getting ready, though, San got suddenly overwhelmed by a weird gut feeling telling him that something was about to happen. It’s not like he had any tangible, concrete, real reasons for that, but nonetheless it was something powerful, immersive and profoundly unsettling.

He tried to fight it with the power of rationality, reminding himself to do his breathing exercises to kick the anxiety aside, yet it was of no use: his guts kept wringing and there was a pang, a pit in his stomach that seemed to be anything but promising, but right when his crisis was getting even worse and he was as white as a sheet and sweaty like a sinner in church, the director called him to remind him it was time to go on stage.

At every step San took, he felt his heart drop in his chest. Sunmi taught him to clench his fists and to do a little exercise against his panic attacks called gounding: counting five things he could see, four things he could touch, three things he could hear, two things he could smell, and one thing he could taste. His eyes jolted around, behind the scenes: he could see his director frantically running around, the worn out parquet of the stage, his other crew members, Sunmi’s face nodding at him in encouragement, the light of the spotlights shining on the scenography and making its colours pop as bright as ever. Then, his hands traveled on the velvet curtains and he took his time to fondle with the soft, heavy fabric between his fingers. He touched the beautiful golden buttons of his costume, then the intricate trimming sawn around the hems, the smooth, elastic fabric of his thick tights. After that, he closed his eyes and focused on his hearing: he listened to the muffled chatter backstage, the distinctive sound of ballet shoes on wood, the swooshing sound of bodies brushing against the curtains that meant everyone was getting ready for their positions. San took a deep breath. Two things he could smell. Sunmi’s floral perfume. And somehow, when he took a deeper breath, San could smell roses, which was very weird, since they don’t have such a bold smell naturally. But then again, probably many people had brought flowers to give to the whole ballet company at the end of the performance. It was not unusual. They were coming home, many dancers’ families had probably come to see them. San sniffed quickly, thinking about Geonhak. Maybe he would have brought him roses, at the end of the show, even though it would have been quite unlikely to find an opened florist at that hour. He kicked back the thought: it would have been way better to have no expectations at all and let Geonhak surprise him. It’s not like a bouquet would have made any difference: he only wanted to see him, that kind of frivolity didn’t really matter, he shouldn’t have been so vain.

One thing he could taste… One thing he could taste…

Before San was able to concentrate on that, though, he heard the curtains open and the music of the first act play in the background. He was Prince Siegfried, and he was supposed to do his entrance. 

When he stepped on the scene, though, he couldn’t help but turn his eyes towards the theater, in a panicked reflex, almost as if his mind needed to see for itself how many people had gathered there that night, for the fun of making San sink in his terror even more.

But when he looked there, all he could see was a boundless expanse of white and pink roses, filling each and every single seat of the theater, its hallways, its corners: everywhere San turned, all he could see were bouquets of roses. 

He tried to ignore the sight, to convince himself it was all an hallucination, that his mind was playing tricks on him, but the loud muttering of his colleagues in the background, who had stopped dancing and were asking to each other what the hell was going on convinced him that what he was seeing was, indeed, the reality.

San tried to keep on dancing, but his body was shaking too much for him to move any further. 

He was confused, agitated and utterly lost.

Then, he lowered his gaze to the front row and finally, sitting at the central seat, in an elegant couture suit, honey blonde hair slicked backwards, more handsome than ever and with a smile so bright it could have lit up the whole theater by itself, San saw Geonhak standing up and walking towards the stage.

His heart trembled, filled with emotion, and he dropped on his knees at his sight.

“Welcome home, San.” Geonhak said, his voice shaken by a feeble flicker of commotion as he got closer to him and stretched his hand up to meet San’s one.

“What the… Geonhak… What… What is this all about?” San muttered through happy tears, covering his face. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t believe the truth.

He didn’t get an answer, though, because Geonhak disappeared from his sight to run on stage. Meanwhile, all the rest of the troupe gathered on stage, to witness what was about to happen. Everyone, but Sunmi, who came out of the backstage making way for Geonhak, who followed closely, clearly embarrassed, but with an undying smile on his face.

As soon as he saw him, San threw himself into his arms and kissed him with all the need, the longing, the feeling he could muster, finally at home in the safety of Geonhak’s strong arms tightly wrapped around him and of his gentle caresses. The warmth of his body almost made San melt and the sound of his heartbeat instantly made him feel safe, after such a long time 

_ One thing he could taste _ .

Just like in Jeju, Geonhak tasted like coffee.

Warm.

Aromatic.

Bitter.

San smiled through the kiss, filled with nostalgia and happiness at the same time.

He knew he had missed Geonhak, but he hadn’t really figured how much and how intensely until he had been able to touch him, to hug him, to kiss him again.

He was there… He was really there… He had come for him… And San knew, in that very moment, that his heart was, at long last, right where it belonged.

“It was kind of hard to organize, not gonna lie… The hardest part was lying to you and pretending I knew nothing about the tickets going sold out in ten minutes.” Geonhak giggled as he spoke and placed a sweet kiss on San’s forehead.

“Wait… Was it you? This… Was this whole thing your idea?” San asked, in shock, looking around and checking for his director, who nodded as in to say that he knew all along.

“Well, actually Youngjo helped with the instant purchase. I was  _ really _ on set and wouldn’t have ever made it on time, but I couldn’t risk spoiling this.” Geonhak said, and both him and San laughed out loud, while the rest of the cast looked at them, expectantly.

“What are all those roses for though? Have you robbed every florist in Seoul?” San dried his eyes with the back of his hands, smudging his makeup, still struggling between the smile he couldn’t contain and the overwhelming emotions that made him want to cry.

“Well… You said roses are for keepers and you know, San, there are some things in life that need to be very closely reflected upon, and other things that one just knows. You know me well, I’m not really one for grand gestures, generally speaking, but ever since I met you I had to change my mind on many things and to challenge myself in order to grow and to become better for you. For us. You made me a better man. You have been the brightest person I have ever met in my whole life and, as gently as the rising sun, you have shed, with your love, a warm light on all of my shadows. And I wanted to give back that same light, that same joy, that same love to you. I knew from the very first time you mentioned it that I wanted to do this thing in particular in the grandest, most spectacular and unforgettable way possible.” Geonhak said, before kneeling down in front of San and pulling out of his pocket, with visibly trembling hands and nearly dropping it out of excitement, a small, black velvet jewelry box, inside of which was sitting a white gold ring, with two pavés of diamonds embracing a single, larger diamond at the center. “I know we still have a lot of work to do, but maybe, if you wish to, we could keep on working on ourselves together for the rest of our lives. I know we’re not perfect, but maybe we’re not meant to be perfect alone, maybe we’re perfect for each other. So I am hereby asking you, San, my precious, my one, my only, my starboy, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

“You’re… Geonhak, you’re not kidding me right now, are you? I swear on God, if you are kidding me, I will kill you!” San nervously laughed, surprised and stranded, incapable to fully process what was going on, deafened by his heartbeat and in utter disbelief for how that whole situation completely clashed with the incredibly negative omen he kept feeling in his guts just a few moments before.

If that was his instinct speaking to him, then it sucked even more than he believed.

“San, my sense of humor already isn’t exactly the best, do you really think, in your right mind, that I could possibly joke on something like this?” Again, both of them bursted out laughing, this time followed by the rest of the troupe, who must have found that scene incredibly amusing, in spite of Geonhak’s increasing tension and of San’s shock “So… Will you? Just… Just let me know because this stance is kind of uncomfortable and this isn’t even my good knee.”

For a moment, the whole theater became dead silent, as everyone held his breath. The tension, while all of them were waiting for the answer to come, could have been cut with a sword and Geonhak made a remarkably admirable effort to keep his composure through those seconds that felt more like days.

Some people have it all. 

The love and the heartbreak.

The lights and the shadows.

The success and the fear.

The highest of highs and the lowest of lows.

Some people have it all. Until you know them.

After that, only the ones who really are willing to understand and to embrace them wholly decide to remain, in spite of the flaws, of the imperfections, of the delusions, of the failures, because learning to love means learning to accept and to fight together.

So, when San bent down as well and kissed him, with eyes filled with tears, muttering a stunted “ _Yes, I do_ ”, Geonhak knew that maybe he was right. 

Maybe they had not been granted the gift of perfection. 

But that didn’t mean that they had not been granted the, just as fundamental, gift of perfectly completing each other.

At long last, they had each other and they knew what it meant to fight with all of their will to be together.

And that awareness was more than enough for them to accept any challenge standing in front of them, regardless of what might have come.

  
  



End file.
